


Remodel

by riotousorder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Butterfly Effect, Gen, Loki as Draco, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotousorder/pseuds/riotousorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki never thought of himself as heroic. Cunning, cynical and luckless were his favorite. Luckless when instead of death, he got stuck in a body of a blond child. Luckless when he was once gain the odd-one-out. Luckless when he somehow got pulled along into Potter's mess when he just wanted to stay in the shadow. Then again he had only himself and his bad luck to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bewilderment

Loki remembered falling into nothingness.

Darkness enclosed on him, suffocating him, slithering its way into his eyeholes until he wasn't certain he had eyes anymore.

It was so so cold. It slashed at his clothes, flayed his skin, torn the muscles from his bones.

He couldn't breathe any longer.

He dreamt of plunging towards Helheim's lava meadow, bell-like laughter …

And flinging upwards only to fall into a stranger's embrace. The woman's white blond hair cascaded down his neck and chest. It tickled him. Her hug was so tight, like he was the hanging low tree branch in a flash flood where she had been awash. Her murmured words made no sense to him. He wanted to pull away, but she was crying, and it would be unwise and ill-mannered to pull away from a silently-tearing lady. So he sat still, for another fifteen minutes until her sob dwindled down and she released him, sitting back with the air of an aristocrat, only red-rimmed eyes whispered about her tears. And then she started asking after his health. He answered them readily enough, all healers just faked their concern for him. The sooner she got out, the sooner he could start making sense of this anomaly. Yes, he was awake; no, he was feeling just fine, not hot behind the neck; yes, he could hear and see just fine, maybe a little dry in the mouth; yes, he would love for a small glass of water and yes, he would love to go back to sleep now. The woman smiled brittlely at him and stood up, smoothing out the creases on the mattress. She gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head and made her way for the door. With a quite 'Good night, my little dragon', she closed the door and he was finally alone.

Loki waited for her footsteps to fade away before gingerly sat up, his back resting readily on the backrest. He truly did not feel any heat or coldness but the sore was, more or less, real enough to remind him of the time a hunt with Thor went wrong and an enraged elk antlered him to the ground that left him bruised and purple for weeks.

He was dead. And yet he was alive. He had glimpsed the fire prairie of Helheim spreading out to where burning earth met deep red sky. The stab of pain when he accidentally leant back too heavily on his shoulder was too real, however.

He was certain he had died; as sure as he had known Mjonir would only answer to Thor.

How could he be alive when he knew he was dead?

No point in thinking about something he had no clues whatsoever, right now he needed to assess his surrounding.

He was definitely not on Asgard anymore. The furniture was much too high and not jewels-carved for it to be of Svartelheim. Not Alfheim either, even though the woman exuded an aura of Vanir nobility. Midgard?

Midgard with an undercurrent of spellwork and magic.

That was odd.

How had he not noticed this during his short visit before? The Midgardians surrounding Thor had been their usual plain nondescript self, nothing noteworthy whatsoever.

There was nothing restraining his movements. No ropes or chain, charms or spells, neither visible nor invisible. Two windows and two doors provided feasible escape routes, the door the woman left through must led to the rest of the building. Oh so carefully, he eased himself to stand, the movement sent jolts of jarring pain from his shins and feet. Once his magic replenished itself enough, he could charm away some of those bruises first thing.

The wooden floor was surprisingly warm. Bracing one hand on the wall, he slowly shuffled his way to one curtained window. The garden outside were majestic for Midgard standard though never as enchanting as Frigga's beloved garden. Evenly lawned grass stretched for as far as the eyes could see, hugging a marble fountain spewing out water in helix. A tall tree right in front of his window added some much needed depth for the monotonous prairie, white and red dotted its green leaves.

Right and left he turned, nothing to see but green grass and occasional shrubs. Loki pulled back, intending to explore the room for weapons of some sort when he was forced to do a double take. The faint reflection in the window showed a lanky blonde kid. Raven black hair that set him apart from others had inexplicably changed to the similar shade. Even one green eye had lost their venomous glint, replaced by a dull gray? Sneering hatefully, he strode as fast as he could, even crawling on the bed to save some walking to reach the full body mirror leaning against the wall. He wanted to see to what extend that lowly Midgardian had messed up his appearance.

The face staring at him was not his.

At all.

Lanky half-his-true-height body swam in emerald green robe, blonde (itshouldbeblack) hair tousled, sticking up like a porcupine. Gone was the the bony face, there was baby fat on his cheeks! Eyes of mismatched green and gray stared back, wide-opened in delirium.

Furiously, he casted a full body change spell with sodamnlittlemagic.

Nothing changed. Blonde hair contrasted glaringly with the dark interior.

In a frenzy, he casted again. One green eye tiredly gazed back at him from the mirror, sunken in exertion.

In a last ditch of effort, he put on an illusion of himself. Black hair, green eyes, tall and oppressing. But wheezing and bending over in exertion.

Mere five seconds and the illusion faded away, leaving him crumbled to the floor in an undignified manner. The appearance of a small wrinkly pinkish creature halted his attempt to haul himself onto the bed. It eyed him with big blue eyes before snapping one hand and he found himself on the bed under the blanket once again. With a pop, it disappeared. Before he even had the time to wonder where it went, the woman had rushed back into the room.

By now he was so damn exhausted to even pay attention to his caretaker. Something still attached itself to his memory though.

She called him Draco Malfoy to get his attention. 'I am Loki,' he wanted to scream into her face. He wanted to grip her neck and demanded to know what spell she had put him under. He wanted to kick her off the bed just for vindictive amusement.

He did none of those. He listened with half an ear and fell into oblivion not so later.

It was night time when he rose again. Opening his eyes to flickering shadows on the canopy, he wondered why Thor had not come. The buffoon were stricken enough to apologize to him, then he must be motivated to come looking for Loki and haul him back to Asgard jail so he could make amends. Perhaps then Frigga would remove this unnatural skin so they could all see him and his smirk in its full glory.

Why then wasn't Thor already here? He casted his sense out for Asgard enchantment.

Silence greeted him.

Confused, he reached deeper. The ever buzzing undertone of magic encompassing Asgard was muted. Inactive. Empty.

For millennials he had attuned his magic to that of Asgard so he never lost his way in unapproved world crossing journeys. To find that primordial magic gone ...

Asgard was not present.

Had something happened while he was free-falling into the void? Unlikely. The magic itself cloaked Asgard from his sense then? Why? To stop him from returning? To avoid more bloodshed? To prevent a monster from entering?

If that was what the magic wished, then so be it. He would not come looking for Asgard.

For millennials it had been his home, with its majestic arch doors, the spacious rooms, the Bifrost view from his balcony, all those fiery pits he curled up beside in winter nights, black hair tangled in Frigga slender fingers. The training hall where Thor mocked his feeble attempt to hold a sword and a shield when he much preferred tricks and knives, the Weapon's Vault where he discovered he was a monster he always hated, the throne room where he had commanded the Destroyer to kill Thor, the broken edge of Bifrost ... Odin disappointment 'No, Loki' ... Thor's anguish cry when he let go ...

Perhaps Asgard's absence was not so bad after all.

He could not help a phantom ache imploding within his chest.

The next few days were spent replenishing his reservoir of magic and banishing the illusion of a Midgardian child. No matter what spells he performed, they wore off in matter of minutes. He started to question his proficiency in spell-casting to not be able to counteract against Midgardians sorcery.

The woman went by often, usually in the company of a blonde man at night time. In a bout of sudden clarity, he drew similarities between the child and them. Pale blond hair the exact shade of the his in neat ponytail, storm gray eyes, long, delicate nose, high refined cheekbones. All their finest features were fitted into this boy.

Just what black sorcery had they performed to hale him from the dead and into this?

They did not seem to realize it was not Draco Malfoy that was listening to them, but Loki the Trickster.

They were not lying, though. They truly believed it was their son sitting right in front of them, recently suffering from a deadly illness that nearly claimed his life.

For the first time, Loki felt out of depth.

Few years flew by in a flash. He had grown accustomed to this new identity, a feat he never thought he would achieve.

He was Draco Malfoy, Heir to the House of Malfoy, but he was also Loki the Trickster. He had parents, loving parents, if the affection borderlined obsession they bestowed upon him was anything to go by. His magic, in contrast to the mistrust he received on Asgard, was praised to the skies. He should have been contented but he was not. The feeling of unease rooted itself deep into his consciousness. It was hard to trust again when the last family he had lied to him for his whole life.

The Malfoy manor was by no means humble in scale, but placed among the vast greenery, it became a speck of brown when viewed from above. Loki took great interest in these Midgardians art of flying, though wooden broomsticks made rather unpleasant seats. He drifted leisurely along the breeze flying at height that had Lucius pale complexion appear waxy. Even from among the cloud, the black mist still tingled at the back of his mind though. He glanced surreptitiously back at Lucius. The man was too busy tailing him to look at the ground below. Loki banked right hard and aimed for the flock of sparrows grooming on the west tower.

The whole manor had been shrouded in black mist for as long as he remembered, mist that no one seemed to notice. At first he thought it was just the Malfoys' magic. But Malfoys magic always had this slippery, bad faith taste to it. This mist, however, was evil. And at the center point of it was a small chest, locked and chained, in the ancestral vault. He had intended to leave it alone, having no wish for attention in this new world. But the mist were oppressing. He dared not go to sleep at night, fearing came morning he might not open his eyes. Lucius and Narcissa remained unbothered, even Dobby, a creature of magic, carried out menial tasks around the house without so much as a glance at the entrance to the vault.

Another sleep-deprived night and Loki flung himself out of bed, bypassed all spells and wards put upon the chest and took the thing out to the garden for cremation.

He wondered if Lucius and Narcissa would love him still once they knew.

 

* * *

  
Loki sedately walked the long dark hall of the Malfoy Mansion, hand smoothing over the various portraits of his ancestors. He should not be dawdling but walking this hall reminded him of just what kind of world he was reborn into, and he could not help but slowing down harried steps and reviewing all that he had memorised of his ancestors.

Armand Malfoy, the first Malfoy. Nicholas Malfoy, who dispatched many Muggles under the guise of the Black Death. Brutus Malfoy, who perpetuated the prejudice against Muggle-associated witches and wizards. Septimus Malfoy, who puppeteered the Minister of Magic. Anbraxas Malfoy, who was rumoured to have forced the first Muggle-born Minister to step down prematurely, and Lucius Malfoy, devoted follower of Voldemort not only escaped imprisonment but also gained a political standing in the Ministry.

An empty frame sat right next to Lucius’, the name 'Draco Malfoy' engraved onto the dark mahogany in golden script.

Soon there would be his portrait up there, holding that same wand, wearing that same ring, sitting in the same postures, sprouting that same stuck up look and having an anecdote of devious act. The only differences would be his mismatched green gray eyes.

He did not know whether he wanted it to happen or not.

There were no windows along the corridor but the torches lined up on the wall provided more than enough light for him to properly observed each portrait and navigated through the twisting hallways.

Right turn at the end, two flight of stair up. Keep straight. His room was the third door on the left.

Loki heaved a tired sigh when the door finally clicked shut without a sound. This was too much excitement. Picking up the silken blanket thrown onto the floor in his haste, he settled down on the floor right where moonlight streamed down, its watery white-silver beam splashed across his face. The hawthorn tree shuddered its leaves in the sudden breeze, few white petals glided down serenely in an effortless dance with zephyr, twirling back and forth gracefully before soft grass tenderly caressed its delicate beauties, ending a night filled with love and promise of another dance that would never be fulfilled

He did wish the blackened journal he burned and buried near would not poison the tree.

Stars winked at him from the endless dome of void-black beyond the moon, like scattered moon dust in the sky. On Asgard, there had been no moon, just carpet of stars stretching as far as the eyes could see. Birthstone-blue, molten-gold, luminous-green, vibrant-scarlet, esoteric-violet, a celestial carpet woven with threads of various colours with no patterns. Here on Midgard, from his view from the balcony door, stars were a boring sequin-silver with an occasional icy-blue and blood-red that faded away before he even put a name to the colours.

He only regretted missing that dome of prismatic celestial bodies from his time in Asgard.

Only that …

Loki stifled a yawn and pulled the green material over his head. Tomorrow was September first. He only had three more hours of sleep until Narcissa came and roused him up.

 

* * *

  
It was probably not a good start with the golden boy of the wizarding world when Loki mentioned to his face that there was a dark mass leeching off of him. To say they did not get off on the right foot was an understatement. Potter was suspicious of him and Weasley was vining onto it to further Potter's contempt for Slytherin.

He paid them no mind; aversion was no novelty to him.

Classes provided no challenge for him. With curiosity fitting for a Ravenclaw, he had gone though school year books and devoured almost all books available in Malfoy's library. He did not wish to stand out, unlike Granger, whose hand was perpetually strung up to the ceiling with an invisible tether.

Defense Against the Dark Arts made him struggle though, not because of the material (Quirrelll was a joke of a teacher) but Quirrell himself. Making eye contact with Quirrelll almost sent him hurling all his pumpkin juice on the parchment on the first lesson. How had he not noticed it during the banquet? That man was revolting. Darkness oozed ceaselessly out from him, inky black liquid fanning out from his feet, stickily foaming its way to rows of table. Loki pulled his legs up and crossed them for the duration, ignoring Parkinson grating snicker. On the front, Quirrell kept on stuttering facts about vampires, occasionally whimpered when he remembered some supposedly horrific encounters. Loki wanted to sneer but the rising goo kept his attention focused on the floor. Class ended with a dilemma for him, on one hand he had no wish to sunk his legs shin deep into this substance; on the other hand, jumping from table to table would put him in limelight while he wished to remain in the dark. A bleeding lip and an 'Impervius' later, Loki strode calmly out of the class and made a beeline for the third floor corridor.

He sat down heavily on the top step, breath coming out in short gasp. The journal had him sleepless, Potter's leech made him want to puke, and Quirrell could possibly drown him. Just what exactly were those?

 

* * *

  
This was the sixth Defense lesson he skipped and Quirrell had actually taken it up to Snape. Loki wanted to give him a standing ovation just for going down the dungeon alone at night. His talk with the Head of House mainly contained his grievance for the man's incompetency, Snape looked like he might award Slytherin twenty points for badmouthing another professor. Loki continued his skipping streak, but dutifully submitted essays this time thanks to Nott’s surprising help.

He had seen Nott a handful of time during gatherings at Malfoy Mannor but they never really talked. Unlike Parkinson's incessant flirting or Zabini's blatant narcissism, Nott was more tolerable with his silence and respect for personal space (Crabbe and Goyle the nincompoops came to his mind). So when Loki approached Nott in the dorm room to ask for the day Defense essays prepared for a cold shoulder, Nott tossed him a roll of parchment and went back to Transfiguration essay without fanfare. Too flabbergasted to be affronted at Nott’s dismissal, he mumbled a thank and chose to sat down on the same couch to write.

Morning had him dumbfounded again when Nott held out a hand, palm up when they were preparing for class.

‘Your essay.’ Nott informed him succinctly and wordlessly plucked it out from his bag.

Loki wouldn't go as far as thinking of Nott as a friend, more like a partner in a fair trade. Nott handed in essay for him and in return, he framed out History essay for him. Wins all around.

October rolled by with the first flying lesson. And the first broken arm. For an heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottoms, Longbottom truly did his ancestor pride by loosing control of a measly broomstick and crashing head first into a brick wall. Classes were cut short. The wind's disappointment was palpable, judging by the directionless way his hair was tousled up. Despondently, Loki returned his broomstick to the shed. And nearly smashed face first on the grass, only centuries of reflex helped him twist to his back at the very last moment. Luckily for him there was no one around and Nott was polite enough to pretend he was checking for loose twigs of his school broom. Loki looked down to see the perpetrator and found a small palm-sized glass orb winking back at him.

Nott drew near when he picked it up and showed it to the sun.

'That's Longbottom's Remembrall,' Nott said and quickly defended himself as Loki quirked a 'how-could-you-possibly-know' eyebrow, 'Heard him exclaim to the dining hall when posts arrived. Not that you would notice since you were busy finding nonexistent flaws in my essay.'

'You wrote Emert the Evil and Egregic the Egregious instead of Emeric and Egbert,’ Loki pointed out.

'What are you going to do with it?' Nott asked in lieu of answer, head nodding at the glass ball in his hand.

Loki lifted a half smile at Nott's blatant diversion but allowed himself to be pulled along. He wanted to put the globe down where he found it, less attention that way, but a memory from a past far away halted his hand. He remembered all the myriad of emotions when he thought he lost his beloved knife; the fear of not finding it anywhere in the room, the desperate search leaving no stones in the castle unturned, the resignation and then the pure joy when Frigga presented it to him.

Loki heaved a sigh. Longbottom was lucky he loved that knife very much.

The squeak Longbottom gave when he laid eyes on them were enough to brighten Loki’s foul mood to pleasantly pleased. It seemed no matter what form he assumed, he was no less imposing than in leather and green.

‘You are quite nice to Longbottom, Draco,’ Not said airily while they made their way for Herbology.

Ah. The arcane rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, Loki could never be set as a prime example of healthy rivalry, but his rivalry with Thor drew a stop at goading and calling names in mock battles, never to the point of outright hatred. Gryffindor prided themselves on their bravery and Slytherin on ambition. Chivalry and cunning. Nerve and resourcefulness. That was a straightforward way to look at the house of lion and the house of snake. But Loki had learnt well to observe things sideway and upside down.

‘You know, foolhardy lions are more similar to us crafty snakes than everyone might think; we are both improvisers at heart. Tell me, did Potter planned to be called in by McGonagall when he rushed after Longbottom and consequently prevented that blundering fool from spewing out what little brain cells he had onto the ground? Neither was I planning to stumble upon the ball. We don't do plan, we react. And while those loudmouthed idiots charge in hoping things would go there way, we change and adapt, winding our ways through unexpected turns of events with elegance and wit,' Loki knew he was just addressing half the reason, but that was enough for now, his dismissal of the pure-blood supremacy might just give Nott a cardiac arrest.

Nott mulled over his reasoning while deftly captured a leaping toadstool mid-leap. Across their table, Weasley was twisting his upper torso, whispering curses, to reach an ingenious toadstool that managed to attach itself to his back while Potter had one leaping straight for his forehead.

'Love the way you put us Slytherin on a pedestal higher than Gryffindor, but no, I refuse to be called similar with someone as uncouth and uncivilized as Weasley. It's just...no.' Nott finished with a stage-worthy shiver.

'To each his own,' Loki chuckled, 'but you have to admit the merit in my line of thought.'

'Sure, o' smart Lord,' Loki's elbows missed Nott's ribs by a hairbreadth, earning him a cheeky grin in return. Nott sobered up before he thought of retaliation. 'But you should be careful, if words get out that you helped a Gryffindor, things might go for a head.'

'It won't,' Loki reassured. Fat chance if Longbottom ever spoke a word about today's event. 'Now scoot over, I have one toadstool leapt off the table.'

 

* * *

  
Loki wondered if Longbottom had made it his life mission to defy all opinions he had about the pudgy boy. There were many kinds of bravery, ranging from 'I-want-to-be-a-merlin-damned-hero' bravery to 'let's-try-this-poison-because-I-was-dared' bravery, Longbottom's bravery fell into the 'I-have-a-suicidal-wish' category. What could the kid possibly be thinking, making his way to the Slytherin table. During lunch. Alone. To announce to the school of his un-Slytherin act of kindness? He had his answer; Longbottom's gray matters weren't sufficient to process the severity of his unneeded politeness. How in Helheim could someone put courtesy before their lives?

Now that the cat was out of the bag, he might as well go along.

'You are welcome,' he injected a barrel of loftiness into the words and thankfully, Longbottom took the clue and scrambled back to the Gryffindor table where Weasley open-mouthedly watched the exchange, half chewed food visible inside his mouth. Disgusting.

Loki returned to his tart and papers, unconcern rolling out in waves while inside he was spitting profanities at Nott's bad mouth and Longbottom's stupidity.

His housemates discreetly studied him in his peripheral. Though Longbottom was a pureblood, Slytherins rarely went out of their way to help someone from Gryffindor. And a Malfoy, especially a Malfoy, would never be seen within three feet of a wizard from the Light side, much less get thanked by one. Ah well, if push came to shove, he would feed the Slytherin rumor mill with little half-truth about his intention. As for now, let them write his story.

Whispers slowly died down in the following weeks, only to crop up again right after Halloween feast. Loki blamed that senile old fool of a Headmaster for the rumor outbreak this time.

Which teacher in their sane mind, sent nearly two hundred children back to the dungeon common room, where a troll was occupying said dungeon?

And just what the hell were Potter and Weasley, whose common room located in a high and safe tower, sprinting straight for the dungeon for, terror gripping every inch of their face?

And why did he bloody feel compelled to haul those two back on their arses and chase after them?

And why was Nott even following him?

His existence consisted of too many unanswered questions.

 

* * *

  
'So you're telling me, that Granger was in the girl's bathroom, during Halloween banquet, crying, because of your tactless remark?' Loki paused mid-stride to give Potter and Weasley a fake surprised look, who were flashing beet red and refused to look at him. 'What a great couple of dunderheads you two make.' He exclaimed loudly, earning glances from scuttering house elves.

Granger was nursing the cup of hot chocolate, still too shell-shocked to input any opinions. Nott nibbled on a plate of cookies, observing with much glee as he tore the two simpletons a new one. Loki had first-hand experience with words, he could sweet-talk a Vanir noble into handing over the key to treasure vault, start a fight without being singled out as perpetrator, and badmouth someone straight to the face without them ever noticing.

He knew the power of well-placed words, and he knew just how deeply they cut.

Still red in the ears, Potter clasped a hand around Granger's, mumbling out an apology. Weasley was quick to follow suit.

Shaking his head in exasperation, he dropped down next to Nott, hand sliding over to take a butterscotch.

‘How do you know about this?’ Not asked, gesturing to the high-ceilinged room with rows of brass pots mounting the stone wall.

In truth, Loki didn’t exactly know this was the kitchen, he just knew there was a spacious room with hundreds of little magic orb felt like that of Dobby right under Great Hall.

‘By chance,’ he shrugged. Nott just humped noncommittally, not truly convinced of Loki’s half-lie.

Weasley seemed to remember just who had saved his life, one second he was ready to get down on his knees to beg for forgiveness, the next he visibly wanted to snap at him for sticking his nose in their business.

‘Before you open your mouth and say something stupid, Weasley, I have a few words to speak with you,’ He started conversationally, ‘You detest me because I am a Malfoy, yes? Can’t exactly blame you, though. Pureblood, blood-traitors, Mudblood, Death Eaters, Voldemort so on and so forth, my parents are devoted to those ideologies. But do not confuse me with them. Ever. Your parents and siblings may have lived through horrible incidents with Slytherins but have you? Not all Slytherins are evil just as not all Gryffindors are good. So I suggest you cease your attempt of forcing Slytherin stereotype on every Slytherin you meet. Have I made myself clear?’ Loki grinned amicably at the red faced Weasley before turning to Granger, ‘Have you got your wit back?’

She gave him a half-hearted sting eye, but nodded either way. ‘What is this place?’ She asked instead, eyes darting back and forth. As expected from a bookworm.

‘The kitchen.’ Nott piped in from the side.

’There is no note on a kitchen in Hogwarts, A History.’

‘Ah, books do conceal truth sometimes, Miss Granger,’ Loki pointed out, ‘Never rely on just one source of information.’

Granger scowled but continued her pursuit for knowledge of the obscured kitchen, which led to a hotly debate of the morality of having house-elves working at Hogwarts.

‘But wizards are abusing them!’

‘Is it abusing when house-elves love doing what they are doing now? As a matter of fact, Helga Hufflepuff herself brought the house-elves in to work so they could avoid being abused. ’

‘That was then and this is now, how could you know if for all these centuries house-elves haven’t been abused?’

‘I couldn’t, but you could just ask one of them, I bet there are some that have been living here for centuries. Be warned though, if you so much as suggest freeing them, I won’t be around to witness the anger they bestow upon you.’ Loki warned her as he pulled Nott to his feet and they made their way for the door.

‘Why did you chase after us?' Weasley called after him as he reached for the doorknob

To earn a favor from the golden boy that I will call upon in the future. To receive a blood debt that no doubt will come into play when Potter becomes the beacon of hope in the war between light and dark. To get into his good grace. To break the expectation everyone places on him. Loki could give Weasley all the reasons above but instead he just said 'Your guess,' and closed the door.

'Why did you chase after me?' He directed this at Nott when they were safe in the dormitory.

Nott gave him an inscrutable half smile and threw his word back at him, 'Your guess.'

He couldn't help the vindictive pleasure as his pillow hit Theodore square in the face.

 

* * *

  
Longbottom was a legit idiot; he didn't peg Granger as one, too. Or Potter for that matter. When Snape told the class to pair up to brew Cure for Boils, Loki readily turned to Theodore only to jump as Granger thumped her bag full of books down right next to him with Potter in tow, meekly asking Theodore to pair with him. The whole class have gone quite, in shock and in abhorrence, even Snape stopped sneering down on Longbottom's clumsiness to stare at the four of them.

Loki was tempted to bang his head against the cauldron, but he figured it wouldn't help with all the attention he was having so he refrained.

'You'd better have a good reason for doing this or Merlin helps me I will chop off that frizzy hair of yours and use it to heat up the cauldron,' Loki gripped out in quiet frustration, hands racking through the gold mane on his head.

'We just want to say thank you,' Potter hurriedly stepped in when the brunette wasn't capable of forming any coherent sentences without them ending up as insults, 'For last night, I mean.'

Again with the courtesy before safety ideology. Maybe Gryffindor should change bravery into suicidal politeness as their quality.

'Can't it wait until classes are over and I am alone?' He heaved a put upon sigh.

'No, because you will just brush me off and I can't discus what I learnt last night with you.' The girl answered flippantly and Loki was tempted to dunk her head in the shimmering potion.

These two had no idea just to what extend their appearance on this side of the room had tipped the political scale.

'I asked a house-elf last night,' Hermione continued, oblivious to his scheme of killing her, 'Mentis her name was. She had been here for over two centuries, and she loved it here. How can they love a place that abuses them?'

'Haven't we gone through this?' Loki asked incredulously, 'They are not being abused.'

'I know for a fact that housekeepers don't really like their work. No one likes menial tasks like cleaning and cooking.' Granger ploughed on with her line of thought.

'That's because humans do it for reasons. For a living, for information, for a way in. Motives are always present in our course of action. House-elves don't have motives. Serving is their way of life, they don't feel obligated to do all the cleaning and cooking, they exist just for that sole purpose,' the stubborn girl was unconvinced, 'Think of a painter who lives and thrives among colors and papers. Now imagine him, empty of brushes and paints, forced to be a politician, can't you tell how he would feel? Disoriented and lost. The same would happen if you uprooted house-elves out of their familiar environment.'

He paused to turn the heat down and gave Granger time to mull over.

'Let's talk about consequences if you miraculously somehow succeeded. House-elves are powerful creatures; therefore, they would make horrible enemies if you offended them. Hogwarts, without the constant cleaning and cooking, will fall into disarray. Students too lazy to clean up their laundries, teachers too busy with curriculum to take up preparing food for one thousand students and staff members, attempts to hire wizard cook and cleaners will only lead to failure. Stir it anti-clockwise, not clockwise, Granger.' He reminded the girl, who was thinking far too much to focus on the intricacy of brewing potion at the moment.

Grudgingly, she said, 'I won't try to free them-'

'Good for you,’ Loki cut her off. Thank Merlin his words had punctured her thick skull, 'Now bottle the potion and send it over to professor Snape, will you?'

'Why should I do that?' She asked indignantly.

'Well, I measure the ingredients, crush snake fangs, add dried nettles, control heat, add slug horns, wave my wand, add porcupine quills when you contemplate the merit of my words and almost send my hard work away. It is only fair if you do the very last part so we can get grades.'

With Granger handing the bottles to Snape, Loki turned to Potter and Theodore sitting nearby, cleaning up their cauldrons. The residue liquid showed an eye jarring orange instead of pink, but at least theirs were more pink-related than Longbottom and Weasley coal-black substance.

'Potter,' he called, getting the bespectacled boy attention, 'Gratitude is much appreciated.'

The kid brightened minutely, a shy smile adorning his face, which made Loki felt less inclined to prank the kid to humiliation.

 

* * *

  
Eyes and whispers followed him when he returned to the common room. It seemed that the rumor mill had been running at full capacity for even upper-year Slytherins gave him searching glances, mutter of Mudblood and disgrace filled the tense atmosphere. So this was more about him being with Granger than with Potter as he had suspected, blood supremacy ideology ran deeper than the hatred for Voldemort's vanquisher. Loki did not care for this … supremacy. Pureblood magic and Muggle-born magic, they were magic in essence, why the discrimination? Magic favored no individual. All was given the same start, how much they grew lied solely on them.

Naive children.

With head held high, he coldly strode for the sofa under the window, Nott right behind. Loki felt moderately bad for dragging Theodore into his mess, but his apology was shrugged off nonchalantly at dinner and he could not help a warm feeling warping around his chest.

Came morning the whispers had died down perceptibly. Loki was no stranger to rumor, the only way to stop it was to ignore. Besides, Slytherins presented themselves as a united front; it wouldn't do have other houses aware of internal discord and exploit that weakness.

A letter from Lucius, who rarely displayed affection for his son, surprised him. A summon home for Christmas was not so much, though Lucius did phrase it more elegantly, your presence was much missed by your mother and I.

A summon to talk about his politeness to a Mudblood more like. Lucius’ rumor mill was quite a force to be reckoned with.

Loki scoffed and quickly wrote a reply stating he would like to remain at Hogwarts and 'please forward my regards to mother for all the sweets she sent'. Thor the owl hooted in goodbyes before taking off with the letter. It still cracked him up to think of blonde Thor with wings and upside-down head swivel.

 

* * *

  
Christmas stopped by with a blanket of white on the greenery; branches hang low with the weight of the snow. A vast layer of ice lay down upon the Great Lake, thin and clear enough to see the occasional fish. A warming charm helped him clear up some snow for a perfect spot and he just sat. Watching. Snowflakes danced and pranced from murky grey clouds

All was quiet.

He chanced a glance down his gloveless hands. A reddish tint had taken over the white pallor of his skin. But no Jotun blue, the deep dark blue that had knocked his life off its axis.

Bracing against rough tree bark, he gingerly sat up, wincing as cramps ran up and down his legs. It was moment like this that he remembered his body was no longer Asgardian, but mere mortal with picky demand for care and attention. He swatted away a bit of snow that had fallen on his hair. Time to let Nott know he didn't freeze to death.

Loki was pleasantly surprised at the scene unfolding before him. Before heading back to the dungeon, he made a detour to the kitchen to ask nicely for a cup of hot chocolate. But it looked like he wasn't the only one with the idea. There were empty mugs and plates besides the non-magical chessboard placed between Nott and Weasley, both of whom appeared to be in deep thought. Potter sat beside Weasley, eyes roaming over all the pieces scattered across the board. He slowly wandered over and seated himself on Theodore's right, which was closer to the fireplace. Weasley looked up and gave him a practiced sneer empty of any malice, while Potter mouthed 'Hi, Draco.' Funny, he didn't remember giving Potter his permission to call him by his first name. Nott however was too focused in the game to give him any attention. Loki leant in to have a closer look at the battle.

Theodore was good, but Weasley was as cunning as a snake on a chessboard, traps and lures set up beautifully, all awaiting unsuspecting enemy. The number of black pieces was more than white by four, and it seemed Theodore had the upper hand. But Weasley's innocent white pawn lying near the border could turn the table around. If Theodore moved the knight forward and captured the pawn now, he could end this game in less than twenty-

And the clueless boy completely bypassed the pawn in favor of a baiting bishop.

'Checkmate!' Weasley smugly announced to a peeved Theodore five humiliating minutes later.

‘Have a round with me,’ Loki nudged Theodore up and took the seat facing the redhead, eyes twinkling madly, ‘Can’t exactly have pretty boy here bring shame to us sly snakes.’

Weasley scoffed but arranged the pieces, and a game started anew.

The kid had potential, but pitted against Loki, who had centuries reading up on strategies and subterfuges and employing them, he posed absolutely no threat. The game was quick and lethal but it was the most brain stimulating Loki had had in years.

‘Rematch.’ Weasley demanded and Loki readily obliged.

He was about to make the first move when opposite of him, Potter was muttering urgently to Weasley. Something about library and Nicolas Flamel.

‘Why should you two go looking for Flamel?’ Loki asked cooly.

'No reasons,’ Potter answered too quickly for it to be honest. ‘We were just being curious.’

‘Of course you are,’ Loki raised an unimpressed eyebrow, deciding to humour them for now. ‘Nicolas Flamel is a well-known alchemist and only known-maker of the Philosopher’s Stone, which can turn any substance into gold and produce the elixir of immortality. Now that you have found answer to your search, shall we go back to the game?’ Loki pointedly moved his pawn two squares forward.

The two Gryffindors stared dumbfoundedly at each other before Weasley dazedly responded with his pawn.

'For hundreds of years, wizards all over Europe have been searching for the Stone, hoping for wealth and everlasting youth,' Loki began casually, taking his bishop diagonally. 'None succeeded. The hunt for it waned away and the Stone itself faded into myth and legend.'

Loki had got their full attention. Time to execute the plan. He hoped Weasley wouldn't hold grudge against him for what he was about to do.

'For you to be searching for it, your family must be desperate, Weasley.' Loki taunted, 'An once well-off family had stooped to hand-me-down clothes and books. How frustrating your parents must be? And I wonder if the problems don't lie on the children. Seven children, two oldest can barely make ends meet and five talentless Hogwarts students. Your mother is a full-time housewife, therefore you are all dependent on your father, a mockery of a Ministry worker. One day he will realize he is better off without you lot sucking on his well-earned money and leave you all. I comment on your plan to save an already shattered marriage, Weasley, though-'

Loki didn't have a chance to finish as an incensed Weasley grabbed the chessboard and swung it at his head full force. Loki had to leant back to avoid a face full of wood splinters and did a back flip when the redhead advanced on him, fists clenched tight. Weasley aimed for his face and punched. It was ridiculously slow and sloppy. In one swift movement, Loki had the arm pinned to the back, the other locked in place as he wrestled Weasley to the ground.

'You vile filthy Slytherin!' The redfaced boy bit out every syllable, struggling like a rabid dog under his hold, 'Don't you dare talk about my family like that! We are poor but we are better than you slimy Malfoys. I don't need the bloody stone to make my family rich!'

'Then why go look for it then?'

'Because Snape was trying to steal it!’ Weasley roared, right hand trying to scratch at the wrist pinning him down.

Snape? Philosopher's Stones?

He knew for a fact Snape wasn't capable of evil, the potion master seemed imposing in his growler and billowing black robes, but his magic told a story of a jaded wizard who had seen and experienced too much. The only person right now at Hogwarts capable of world-dominating evil was Quirrelll.

This was so very not good.

Quickly standing up, he seamlessly pushed Weasley in a seated position and discreetly casted a wordless and wandless calming charm before making a showy wand waving to put all things back in their places.

'I sincerely apologize for slandering you and your family. It was very injudicious of me to fabricate such lies. And I also apologize for making a mess in the kitchen.' The last part he directed at the crowd of house-elves watching in fear from the sidelines and he quickly bolted for the door.

Please let him be wrong.

 

* * *

  
He saw the three rush to him in his peripheral, a touch haste in their steps. But he was too busy identifying all the magic that he sensed behind that closed door to pay much attention. The three-headed beast that had been growling at him was telling enough. Beyond that, he was not sure anymore. Magic coming from wizard and human were different from that that emitted from creature and creations of magic. House elves' magic felt like cotton-wrapped steel spike balls, harmless on the outside but once provoked, there would be retribution. All magic felt like that. Innocuous with an underlying sense of danger, even Hogwarts’ immemorial and Malfoy Manor’s haughty magic. Past the beast were a lump of plant, hovering tiny orbs of light with something that felt suspiciously like a broomstick, thirty-two stone figures standing on a raised platform, a troll (Loki knew that magic goo no matter where), tongues of magic flame and-

Loki took in a gasp. If magic had color instead of the opposite black and white and occasional gray, the stone would be a brilliant crimson. Dark crimson the color of blood spilled over the ownership of the stone. So much power yet so much suffer.

It was, however, diluted with a vortex of white.

The red eye of a snowstorm.

Sparse protections against a malevolent entity, however.

Loki shook his head and turned around to greet Potter, who had managed to reach him first and was trying to consume Loki's share of breathable air.

'Potter.' Loki said, keeping it short.

'Draco, wha-' Potter huffed out, 'I thought you were going in there by yourself?'

'I have no suicidal wish,' Loki scoffed, giving Theodore a wave when the lanky kid drew close with more grace than Potter did. 'And if I did go in, what could you do then? Go after me? There was a beast just right behind that door in case you miss the growling.'

'Of course!' Harry said as-a-matter-of-factly; 'I'm not going to let a friend of mine go in there alone.'

That drew Loki's thought to a stop. Friend? He had never had any friends. The Warrior Three were Thor's friends, not his; he was just an extension to Thor. No matter how heroic and righteous Loki had fought in battles and practices, prevailed there the voile drape that hung between him and them. He could sit with them, see them, listen in, but never be part of a joke, never have a voice to give his two pennies. The drape made it hard for Thor to notice his presence. The drape remained while Loki had slipped away, both from the place and the mind.

Call him coward but he would rather be alone than with friends who would sooner or later left him. For Potter to consider him a friend... Could Loki trust him?

'Potter are worried for your life,' Theodore said, pulling him out of his reverie.

'Are you?' Loki raised a mocking surprise eyebrow.

'I am curious,' Theodore gave him a cheeky grin, hands too casually put away into the pants' pockets.

'Of course you are,' Loki could see his own eyes roll but he resisted, for Weasley had finally made his way here, a look of confused serenity adorning his face, which was completely paradoxical. Weasley could never look serene.

'I still want to punch you.' Weasley narrowed his eyes at Loki. The spell was starting to wear off then.

'You have every right to do so,' Loki agreed wholeheartedly. It was unrefined of him to pull Weasley's family into his taunt when all this should concern only Weasley himself.

'Why did you do it then?'

'Anger is the quickest way for one to reveal one's secret.' Loki understood this with all his fibers. Odin had used it on him once, to pry Thor's whereabout when the golden teenager prince decided to go for a manly hunt alone at night with nothing but a practiced sword. Odin had goaded him, sneered at him, compared him to Thor. You are not worthy of a warrior, Loki.

In his anger and uncontrolled emotions, he had blurted out Thor's destination and proceeded to yell his lungs out. Odin was wrong, he could be a warrior, one that is better than Thor and will conquer those beasts Jotuns. Odin just sat there, silently followed Loki's frenzy speech.

What a cunning mind, Loki thought bitterly.

Perhaps he shouldn't have used it on Weasley, there were plenty other ways to get the truth from children. After all he was Loki the Silver Tongue first and foremost.

But he needed to know fast whether those kids were unintentionally putting themselves in danger. Finding out Snape was their suspect uncoiled some of the tension, but he needed to know whether Quirrelll had obtained the stone yet. Loki had no trouble imagining the magic surges if the stone fell into Quirrell's hand.

'So you slander my family?' Weasley continued, eyes peering at him emotionlessly.

'Yes, you are most hung-up about your family's lack of wealth and it is as good as any weakness to exploit.' Just like a game of chess, an opening is an opening.

Weasley took his time to think. Maybe Loki could brew one or two cauldrons of calming draught for Weasley to use on regular basis. He rather liked a rational and quite Weasley.

'I still don't like you,' Weasley announced and Loki grinned. This was more than he had thought.

'Shall we all come down for Christmas dinner then? I am rather famished, Loki suggested. In truth, he just wanted to see what had got Hogwarts' magic twinkle madly in giddiness, peculiarly childlike for a sentient millennium-year-old magical castle.

 

Snow fell gently from the enchanted ceiling, hollies and mistletoes lined up along the walls. Twelve enormous fir trees stood around the room, each spotting different decorations. Glittering candles, large shiny golden orbs, red frilly bows or in the case of one tree that was charmed a garish purple, woolen socks of rainbow colors. Loki had a sneaking thought that the twinkling Headmaster was humming a cheery tune when he did this.

The four long tables were swapped for a big circular one. All other seats were occupied with teachers and staying students, so Loki took a seat right next to Snape and pulled Theodore down. The man gave him a glance but didn't say anything. Potter and Weasley headed straight for where three other redheads were seating, one of the twin whispered something to Potter and sent a sidelong look Loki's way. Loki expertly ignored it.

The meal was as extravagant as always with crispy roast turkeys, heaps of boiled potatoes and silver boats of thick gravy and cranberry sauce. Loki curiously pulled a cracker with Nott, inadvertently sending white mice scurrying across the table. Quirrelll whimpered and lifted his dish up high as a mouse streaked past his place.

Again with the timorous act. A wolf with his fur bleached.

A perfect cover.

Perhaps Loki could pay a little more attention to Quirrelll from now on. Loki had no intention of studying the merge of the stone's magic and Quirrelll's darkness.

 

* * *

  
Keeping a part of his sense on Quirrelll was more straightforward than Loki had first thought. Before he had to tune out Hogwarts' encompassing magic to pinpoint Quirrelll, now Quirrell's magic lingered at one part of his sense, ignorable but always present.

That magic was getting stronger and fouler days past since the holiday.

It was desperate. And dying.

Desperation went hand in hand with irrationality.

It seemed Quirrelll was not above this rule.

For a while Loki completely lost track of the man only for Quirrelll to suddenly pop up on the third floor corridor, magic feeling nauseously pure and innocent.

Without any second thought, Loki sprung up on his bed and dashed after him.

The traps were obnoxiously simple. A music-loving dog, a dark-dwelling tree that invitingly asked for light, a thick and rusty key among the swarm of slim slick keys, a fair game if chess, a riddle anyone with half a brain could solve and a sleeping troll.

A mirror at the end proved to be the only challenge, the source of the vortex that he had sensed before. The stone was definitely there, protected by razor sharp blades of potent magic.

'Ah, Mr. Malfoy,' Quirrell said, eyes not leaving from the reflection. 'However did you find me?'

Loki stayed silent.

‘Lucius’s spawn?’ A chilling, raspy voice rung out from behind Quirrelll. ’I know your father, young Malfoy…. A man I trust…with something of importance….’

‘If you are referring to the blank journal my Lord,’ Loki put as much contempt as he could into those last two words, ‘I must apologise for burning it.’

There was a stilted silence where Loki’s smirk widened into a menacing full-toothed smile. Looked like he had destroyed a part of Voldemort’s soul. As a matter of fact, whatever resided in Quirrelll was just a fragrant as well.

Loki would hate to see Voldemort in his full glory.

The door banged against the wall with a rumbling bang and Potter skidded in. The traps were a cinch to get past, so this was to be expected. Breathless and surprised, Potter only managed a astonished ‘You!’ at the sight of Quirrelll. Potter suspected Snape after all, so seeing the poor stuttering Quirrelll threw him for a loop.

‘Draco?’ Potter threw a confused glance his way, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Same as you, can’t exactly let Voldemort have what he wants,’ Loki shrugged.

‘How do you know about Voldemort?’

‘Just had a fancy conversation with him.’

‘Potter?’ Voldemort asked, ‘Let me speak to him…face-to-face,’ this he directed at Quirrelll.

Without a token of protest, Quirrelll unwrapped his turban and turned on the spot. Where there should have been a back of Quirrell’s head, there was a face that made Loki reevaluated his opinions of Jotuns, at least those creatures had clearly-defined noses instead of snake-like slits. With chalk white skin and glaring red eyes, Voldemort made a rather terrifying image but Loki had seen the worst the universe had to offer to be daunted by this.

Potter stood frozen to the ground, mouth gaping wide.

‘Potter!’ Loki called to get the boy out of his shock. ‘You know what this mirror does? It shows your deepest desire.’ The inscription carved around the top pretty much gave away the mirror’s purpose. ‘You clearly have no intention of letting your’s parents murderer come back to the living so go there, look into the mirror and tell me when you know where the stone is. I’ll keep dear meek professor Quirrelll occupied.’ Loki instructed, drawing out his wand.

‘Got it.’ Potter said, dashing for the mirror.

Quirrelll made an attempt to grab hold of Potter’s arm but a glancing Blasting Curse from Loki made him withdrawn his hand in fear of loosing it. Quirrelll finally turned around and trained his wand on Loki.

‘I guess you will have to go first, Lucius’ boy.’

‘I have a name you know.’ Loki frowned disapprovingly.

Quirrelll did not dignity that with an answer and started firing green killing curse at him. Loki smoothly twisted sideway to dodge and return fire.

For a host of the nefarious Dark Lord, Quirrelll was a terrible duelist. Sloppy footworks, excessive wand-waving and immoderate use of Killing Curse. For every Killing curse Quirrelll uttered, Loki had the time to fire three different spells at him, forcing Quirrelll to duck or use Protego.

‘I have the stone!’ Potter yelled from his right.

‘Took your sweet time. Now get out of here quickly.’

‘NO!’ In Loki’s miniscule distraction, Quirrelll had lunged for Potter and grabbed hold of his wrist.

Loki rushed in to help only to witness the bewildering development. The moment Quirrelll circled his hand around Potter’s wrist, Potter’s other hand, the one that was holding the red stone, came up to press firmly on the scar on his forehead and yelled painfully. Quirrelll’s triumphant smirk was washed away almost as quickly, replaced by surprise and agony as he withdrawn his blistered fingers.

‘Seize him! SEIZE HIM!’ Voldemort shrieked. Quirrelll visibly gulped down his fear and lunged.

The Fiendfyre Loki casted reached its mark timely and Quirrelll dropped down near Potter’s leg, thrashing silently.

‘On your feet now,’ Loki hauled Potter up and draped one arm around his shoulders, stumbling his way to the door with a near unconscious boy’s added weight.

Loki glanced behind only to stare in horror at the approaching black dust cloud that passed through Potter too quick for Loki to do anything, leaving the boy out cold for real. Before he reached the doorknob, the door had swung open, almost hit him in the nose and Dumbledore was standing there in his billowing blue robe.

Foolish old man. Loki wanted to snarl. You knew this would happen. You knew Voldemort would come after the stone and you dare place it here with minuscule protections. You even indulge children on their heroic quest that almost get them killed. Manipulative string-pulling devious conspirator.

Loki said none of that. He yanked the stone out from Potter’s firm hold and pushed it into Dumbledore’s hand.

‘I believe you know what to do with it,’ Loki said and made his way for the hospital wing.

He completely missed the calculating look the Headmaster sent his way.

 

* * *

  
Potter was allowed out of the hospital on the day of the farewell banquet, sporting slews of bandages. Gryffindor won House Cup. Dumbledore's favoritism was at full power.

Loki predicted this but it still stung a little.

The train ride home was, for lack of better words, fun. He and Theodore managed to hog a compartment for just the two of them. Loki was halfway into a book when Potter, Weasley and Granger barged in with armful of candies and pastries. He ended up nibbling on three chocolate wands before taking turn trying Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Granger's unlucky draw of a stinky-stock flavor bean drew a laugh out of everyone. They played Exploding Snaps till the train arrived at King's Cross, the book lay forgotten on the table.

For the first time Loki understood what having friends felt like.

Lucius and Narcissa picked him up and apperated home. Before he was whisked away, Loki glimpsed at the walrus Muggle that had Potter cower in fear. It seemed he would be very occupied this summer for social events.


	2. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki thought one adventure was enough. He didn't count on Voldermort's vengeful soul seeking retribution against him.

Tension was palpable inside the Malfoy Manor. Since the start of the holiday, Loki had done his best to avoid mealtimes, tired of Lucius’ cold disdain and Narcissa's meagre attempt at getting Lucius talk to him. Most of Loki's time was spent in his room or the library, reading and doing summer homework, which baffled him when teachers assigned heaps of foot-long essays so that students 'remembered everything that had been taught during school year’. Should summer not be the time for relaxation and rest for Midgardians? Or perhaps this was a wizard thing to remind Muggle students that magic was real?

Whichever the case was, it provided excuses and Loki was willing to act on them.

He was contemplating the merit of writing another extra foot to debate the unknown variable in transfiguration formula when terror-filled scream interrupted his thought.

Noiselessly he rolled up the parchment and set off for the living room where the scream had waned into pitiful moan.

Dobby lay on the cold wooden floor, curling in on himself. Lucius sat on the sofa, not a drop of emotion when he uttered 'Crucio'. The house-elf writhed on the floor like a burning man, howling and sobbing in pain, begging for Lucius to stop.

'What is going on Mother?' Loki asked Narcissa, who stood arm-crossed right behind the closed door.

'Nothing you should concern your self with, Draco,' Narcissa walked forward and placed her hands on his shoulders, shielding him from the scene ahead. 'Now go back to your room, I -‘

The screaming stopped so suddenly that Narcissa chanced a glance over her shoulder.

'Where did you take the diary?' Lucius asked Dobby once the spell was cut off, eyes belied the fury lacing his every words.

'Dobby does not know-'

'The black leather journal with the inital T. M. Riddle engraved onto the back?' Loki said, walking around Narcissa to come stand between Dobby and Lucius' wand. 'I burned it.' He said, a ferocious smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The silence was so absolute that Loki could hear the blood thumping through Lucius' bursting veins at the temple.

'Go back to your room, Draco,' Lucius ordered, noticeably gulping down his shock and incomprehension.

Loki had the mad urge to laugh long and loud. He did release a short bark of laughter.

'Is the fact that I burned the journal so hard to believe or do you merely refuse to listen to me? I. Burned. Voldemort's. Diary.' Loki overnicely pronounced each word.

A beat of silence passed and then Lucius was in Loki’s personal space, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly Loki was nearly yanked off his feet.

‘Where are you keeping it Draco?’ Lucius asked, fear taking hold of his actions.

‘Do you have selective deafness?’ Loki goggled at the tall man. ‘The diary is gone. Burned to ash. Scattered to the wind.’ Loki raised his left hand and waggled his fingers to imitate the wind.

‘Draco, please, _please_ , don’t lie to me. The Lord entrusted me to keep it safe-‘

‘That is your problem then, is it not?’ Loki interjected quietly. ‘There is no one lording over me. Voldemort is nothing more than a stage-worthy haranguer parroting Blood Supremacy, an egomaniacal parasite fearing Death. And _you_ are starry-eyed naive sheep that drink his every word and worship his every breath because he shares the same view as you. Should you not be the Lord who pull the string instead of being ordered around like a hapless ser-‘

A sharp pain on Loki’s cheek stalled his tirade. He vaguely remembered bringing his hand up to touch the cheek and winced when the fingers pressed against it. He gazed at Lucius, whose hand had curled into a tight fist under the fold of his robe.

‘Lucius!’ Loki heard Narcissa shout from the back.

Without a word, Lucius swept past him out of the room, Narcissa lingered a little more before following her husband and leaving Loki alone with Dobby.

‘Little Master!’ Dobby cried, knees sliding on the polished floor to reach him.

'Apparate us to the front gate, Dobby,’ Loki ordered

Dobby drew up short from reaching for Loki’s cheek. Wordlessly, the house-elf snapped his fingers, and they were standing on the cobbled street on the outside of the gate.

'Dobby, this will be your last order,’ Loki kneeled down eye-level with him, pulling out the pristine handkerchief from his inside pocket and took Dobby’s small hand. 'Immediately come to Harry Potter house and tell him to pack his trunk, I will arrive shortly to pick him up. And now,’ Loki finished the last loop of handkerchief around Dobby’s wrist with a simple bow, ‘you are free.’

Dobby broke into tears and disappeared as soon as Loki released his hand.

Alone, Loki apparated to the nearest train station and waited under the light drizzle.

He had noticed the blisters on Potter’s hands, the three-size too large clothes and the duct-taped glasses when he first met Potter on the train. Seeing the man that picked Potter up at the station confirmed his theory. It was no secret to the wizarding community that the Boy-Who-Lived lived with Muggles. What kind of Muggles was everyone’s guess.

Abusive Muggles most definitely entered no one’s mind.

Living alone would be boring so Loki figured Potter would make a suitable companion. 

 

* * *

 

Loki got off at Reading Station from the commuter rail, hands tucked deep in the thin coat pockets. He rather liked this contraption of travelling, not too choked with humans at this time in the evening and it provided him enough time to think things through. Apparition shortened the time wasted to move from train to train but Loki was not fancy of standing at Potter’s front porch contemplating the course of action.

 

Yellow street lamps lit up the homogeneous buildings; two-storey, white painted wall with a diminutive patch of grass in front. Wind zipped through gaps between houses, mournful and wheezing. Loki hastened his steps. Potter’s house was just around that small playground.

 

* * *

 

Harry paced around his room, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

What exactly did Draco mean by ‘preparing his trunk’, which was locked in the cupboard under the stairs with all his belongings since the start of the summer?

When Dobby came to deliver the message, sobs and tremors racking along his bony frame, Harry was trying to pick the lock on Hedwig’s cage with a thin wood splinter he tore from the windowsill. The sudden ‘Pop’ had his heart leap straight up to his mouth and him turn around with an ‘I am doing nothing, Uncle Vernon’ expression. The door remained blessedly quiet so Harry let loose a relieved breath and looked around to see what had exploded. A nervous, red-eyed house-elf standing at the foot of his bed greeted Harry’s searching eyes.

‘Mr. Harry Potter sir?’ the house-elf asked, voice trembling.

Harry managed a wary nod.

‘Draco Malfoy sir asked Dobby to tell Harry Potter sir to pack his belongings and prepare to leave as soon as Draco Malfoy sir arrives.’ The house-elf twisted his fingers in distress, nose sniffling nonstop.

‘Draco said that?’ Harry narrowed his eyes at the house-elf, skepticism filling his consciousness. ‘Why does he tell me that?’

‘Dobby knows not, Harry Potter sir. Dobby knows Little Master is punished for fending for worthless Dobby b-b-but D-Dobby helps not because L-LIittle Master asked Dobby to go to Harry P-P-Potter sir and f-f-freed Dobby!’ The house-elf, Dobby, cried earnestly at that, thick tears streaming down from big tennis ball-like eyes. Dobby pulled out a clean white handkerchief with a stylised fire-breathing dragon in the shape of the letter ‘M’ embroidered in emerald threat and blew his nose noisily.

That was definitely Draco’s. Harry would never forget the sewn dragon that gave mighty beats with its wing and spit thread-fire on the white cloth when Draco used it to wipe some of the dust from Hermione’s face.

‘Dobby is free but Dobby does not want to be free. Dobby wants to help Little Master but Dobby does not want to disobey Little Master’s last order.’ Dobby grabbed the bedpost and started banging his head against the footboard. ‘Horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible Dobby.’ With each ‘horrible’, Dobby banged his head, each hit getting harder and louder than the previous.

Fearing the loud noise would bring Uncle Vernon up, Harry hastily pried Dobby’s tight grip off the wooden posts. As soon as the last finger was off, Dobby turned around and smashed his head against the wardrobe, which rattled thunderously. Panicked for real, Harry hugged Dobby from behind and lifted him onto the mattress, blanket at the ready to roll around the house-elf.

Thundering footsteps and an equally thundering ‘BOY!’ informed Harry he was not as quiet as he thought he was. Uncle Vernon opened the door and beadily glared at him.

‘What was that noise?’ he asked.

‘I fell from the bed and hit the wardrobe,’ Harry lied.

Uncle Vernon glared harder at him; his beady eyes became mere lines on his face.

‘Don’t mess around anymore boy. If I have to come up here one more time because of your stupid game, whatever in the cupboard will go into the fireplace. Do you understand?’ He threatened, pointing a meaty finger at Harry.

‘Yes, Uncle Vernon.’

He waited until Uncle’s Vernon’s footsteps fell silent to remove his hand from where it was covering Dobby’s nose and mouth. Discreetly wiped it against the underside of the mattress, Harry gingerly sat Dobby, still sobbing, up.

‘Dobby, I want you to tell me what exactly happened before you appeared here.’

Through much sniffling and almost wailing, Harry gleamed that Malfoy senior lost a treasure. He then blamed Dobby and nearly killed the house-elf. Luckily Draco jumped in and took the blame. Whatever happened next Harry couldn’t decipher from the garble of words and blubbering.

In essence, Draco got into trouble at home, which led to the question of why Draco needed him to get packed.

The ringing doorbell cut off Harry's reverie. Light footsteps and a shrieky ' _Who's there?_ ' told Harry that it was Aunt Petunia who answered the door.

Strange.

Dursleys had never had guests over this late. If someone decided to come, they should have given a ring but as far as Harry could tell, there had been no scheduled get-together, for the three Dursleys were watching telly in their night gowns and Harry had not been given any instruction to keep quiet and stay in his room before hand. Draco would come tonight but surely he wouldn't just ring the doorbell to meet Harry.

...Right?

Heart frozen rigid with foreboding, Harry slid soundlessly down a few steps and bent low to catch a glimpse of the visitor, praying it was not a blond twelve-year-old in wizard robe.

The man that was smiling charmingly at Aunt Petunia and giving her kiss on the back of her hand was, well, not a boy. Standing almost as tall as the door frame in sophisticated black suit, the man had hair the same shade of blond as Draco did , albeit longer and tied into a low ponytail. The nose and cheekbones were higher and more prominent but the mismatched eyes told Harry it was Draco talking there, making Harry's aunt blush like a teenage girl and Uncle Vernon beam smugly. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes until Aunt Petunia called him in honey sweet tone she usually reserved for Dudley.

'Harry dear,' Harry repressed the urge to gag, 'There's someone who wants to meet you downstairs.'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia.' Harry put his hand over his mouth and said into it.

He waited for a few heartbeats to descend. Draco was still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, serene smile that clearly reached his eyes adorned aristocratic feature.

'Ah, Mr. Potter,' Draco exclaimed jubilantly, 'I have heard wonderful tales about you from your most fair-spoken aunt and uncle.'

'Harry dear,' Aunt Petunia _lovingly_ guided him to the front, 'This fine gentleman here is Sir Anteres Malorie-

'Madam, please refer to me as Loki, that is what my close friends usually address me as. Anteres makes me feel like I am standing amidst a flock of hungry fathers looking to court their daughters.' Draco laughed softly, his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

'Well, Sir Loki Malorie,' Aunt Petunia agreed demurely. 'And he has a wonderful offer for you,' she directed this back at Harry.

'Shall we talk about this in more details while I help you with your belongings then?' Draco caught Harry's eyes and winked surreptitiously.

While still flummoxed, Harry allowed Draco to steer him to the cupboard where all his stuffs were brought outside of the locked door.

'How did you do that?' Harry whispered to Draco, throwing a rolled -up pair of socks into the brimming trunk.

'Your aunt and uncle are laden with laud and promise of wealth and recognition.' Draco said, shutting Harry's trunk with a note of finality.

Harry was well versed enough in body language to wisely end that line of question.

The three Dursleys bade them goodbye heartily and Draco granted them a cordial nod. They walked in silence, Harry pulling the trunk and Draco carrying Hedwig's cage until they reach a playground at Magnolia Crescent.

Without any motion, the grown-up Draco melted into the air, leaving the teenage Draco standing there in light coat and jeans and familiar short hair.

'I miss the view from up there.' Draco mumbled wistfully before setting Hedwig free. He then glided a hand over the cage and Harry's trunk, shrinking them until they fit perfectly in Harry's palm.

'Aren't we supposed to perform magic outside of school?' Harry asked as Draco sat himself on the swing.

'No,' Draco shook his head assentingly, 'But the Ministry cannot track magic performed without a wand,' Draco pulled out his and gave it a fancy wave for emphasis.

'Can you teach me how to do that?'

'Wandless magic came instinctive to me. I am not sure myself how it works.' Draco frowned, swinging absently.

'So,' Harry tried hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice, 'Where are we going now?'

'I am thinking.' Draco said and fell completely silent and still.

With nothing to do, Harry turned inwards with his thoughts. He was very curious as to what Draco had said to convince Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, not just to allow him to leave with all his 'abnormal' stuffs, but to see him off with true merriment. The Dursleys had always been happy with him out of the house, Harry amended, but that was 'good-riddance' happiness, not whatever emotion they displayed tonight.

Harry wanted to give Draco a standing ovation for accomplishing that but Draco seemed to be ... ashamed of it. Come to think of it, back in first year, when Draco admitted to Ron that he angered the redhead to get him to talk, Draco looked as if he was being swallowed in self-hatred. Harry had to wonder why. Maybe Draco had no idea what pale imitation of summer holiday he had removed Harry from. This could be the first real holiday Harry had ever had, away from the Dursleys, away from chores, away from the stuffy room.

So lost in thought, Harry didn’t realise Draco had stood up and offered Harry a hand up.

'I hope you know how to get to Central London from here Potter.' The smile Draco gave filled Harry with apprehension.

 

* * *

  

When they got down at Paddington Station, Harry found Draco a map and the blond pointed at the place he wanted to go. They could have continued by tubes to Borough of Islington but Draco insisted on checking out other 'zany moving contraptions' so Harry complied. As they waited for the bus, Draco kept staring alternately between a phone booth across the street and a lamp at the street corner, mumbling softly about the house and the alley.

The bus were empty save for the two of them and the driver himself. Ten stops later, they reached their destination, Draco taking the lead this time. Draco walked briskly past winding streets, cut through a small square and drew to a stop in front of the brick wall between two houses. Harry turned left and right to see. None of the houses felt welcoming with paint peeling from many doors, broken windows glimmering dully in the light from the street and rubbish heaped outside several set of steps.

'We are here.'

'There's no Number Twelve.' There was Number Thirteen to Harry's left and Number Eleven to his right, so it stood to reason that he was facing Number Twelve. But the brick wall was solid to his touch and Harry got a hunch that running straight at it would only award him a bump on the head.

 'It is shielded with magic.'

 _Of course magic was involved._ 'How can we make it appear?'

'I have yet any idea but let us see...' Draco mused, eyes roaming over the brick wall before settling down for an eye-level brick and announcing orotundly at it. 'My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy née Black, Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House if Malfoy. I command the Ancestral Home of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black to reveal itself.'

Harry waited with a baited breath. A bat flew under a street lamp, causing a swift dip in light. All was silent.

Draco cocked his head to the side, reevaluating. In a trance, he raised his palm up and cut a clean gash through it with a knife hidden in his coat. Harry gawped at it but Draco was already carefully smearing the blood on the bricks. At once, the brick wall parted sideways for a battered black door to emerge followed swiftly by identically dirty walls and mucky windows. The Muggles living in number eleven and thirteen didn't even feel anything, judging by the dark windows. Draco walked up the worn stone steps and took the silver knocker only to hiss in pain.

'Are you alright?' Harry asked worriedly.

'Yes, I am well,' Draco showed him the two angry red dots on the newly healed palm. 'Bloody paranoid old coots,' Draco mumbled darkly, giving the knocker a glare so frosty it could ice lava.

The silver serpentine knocker slithered back in place, not forgetting to repay the insult in kind. 'Puny human,' it said.

Harry snickered softly, earning a questioning glance from Draco. He should tell Draco a palm sized magical knocker had just called the blond undersized, but Harry wanted to leave Draco in the dark for a bit longer.

Draco toed the door open and beckoned Harry inside. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the door swung shut, trapping him in total darkness.

'Come this way Little Master and Harry Potter sir,' Dobby whispered from the behind the door at the end of the long narrow hall, warm golden light spilled out in strips.

Quietly, Harry made his way over. Draco followed closely behind.

The room they came in was so brightly lit Harry had to blink tears out of his eyes. Candles were lit and placed everywhere, upon the intricate chandelier, along the long tables, on either side of the fireplace mantel and on the top of chests of drawers. Rows of shelves holding gleaming dishes and cups lined the upper wall. On the stove a kettle was boiling, puffing out hazy steam.

Dobby pulled out a chair for him and set down two plates full of sandwiches and a teapot.

'You are free Dobby,’ Draco said, sipping on his steaming cup of tea.

‘Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Little Master tells him to do!’ Dobby's smile stretched from ear to ear. 'Dobby cleaned the house and prepared bedrooms for Little Master and Harry Potter.'

'Thank you Dobby.' Draco exhaled resignedly. Leaving Dobby hyperventilating in happiness, Draco turned to him and asked, 'You have a large true bedroom to yourself and freedom, what say you about living here for the rest of the summer, Potter?'

 

* * *

  

Loki could feel his mouth lift a bit higher when Potter forgot about the sandwich halfway to his mouth.

He does love to surprise people.

Two hours later and Potter finally went to bed after an umpteenth times asking Loki whether he was sure or not. It was not like the house had been occupied for a long time by the state of it. The last heir of the Black Family had been incarcerated twelve years ago and other Blacks were dead, imprisoned, disowned or not fond of visiting their childhood home. Loki turned his head slightly at the general direction of a cupboard in the drawing room, where was emitting the foul smoke, unmistakably Voldemort's piece of soul. Why was it that everywhere he went he encountered a disgusting piece of that man?

He had sensed it when they stood outside the still hidden number Twelve. He had debated turning around and find another place right then, but he was out of choice. Theo he had no doubt would gladly hosted them but that placed him right in Lucius' grasp. The Malfoys' various estates scattered around Great Britain were out of the question and Muggle hotel provided only temporary protection. So, gritting his teeth, Loki stayed his rebelling legs and trudged of the stone steps.

Years of aristocratic upbringing forced his hand to come up to cover a jaw-breaking yawn in the presence of candles and dust. The plush armchair in the living room looked rather inviting than the two flights of stairs at the moment. Without further ado, Loki flung himself onto the soft material and promptly fell asleep. The mist could wait till tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Loki woke to sore legs and stiff neck. The fire had long since died away, glowing cinder casting eerie shadow on the coat hanger. His inner clock informed him dawn just started to break, so he pulled the quilt Dobby must have dragged over over his head and slipped back to dreamless sleep.

Or tried to.

Incessant rustle and murmur hovered outside the edge of his hearing, too low to make out anything. In the stillness of the breaking dawn, however, the sound was as annoying as dog barking right into his ears. Frustrated and awake, he carefully maneuvered around furniture to the dark drawing room.

A short mass came into his view, its bulbous nose a prominent feature on its face. The elusive house-elf made its appearance at last. The little nark had loitered outside the kitchen door when he and Potter were there, obviously listening in but not doing anything suspicious so Loki left it alone...

Until now, when it was clutching the very source of the dark mist to its chest, whispering _repentantly?  
_

Mystified, Loki set the candles down on the floor and conjured up a green flame to light the wicks.

The light shone upon a sorry excuse of a house-elf. Bloodshot eyes, many folds of skin and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears.

'Whose service are you bound to?' Loki asked, needing to make sure.

'Kreacher serves only the noble House of Black. Master is the youngest of the Malfoys, great-nephew of my late mistress.' Kreacher croaked, studying Loki from the slits that were his eyes.

'There will not be any objections of me and Potter staying here then?'

'The Potter boy stopped the Dark Lord-'

'And is Dorea Potter née Black's grandson as well as my first cousin once remove,' Loki intervened. 'There are, therefore, two Blacks in the ancestral House of Blacks, you will have no complaints about that, will you?' Loki asked the cowering house-elf, absently twirling green flames on the tip of his fingers.

'No, of course not, Master Malfoy is most welcome in the House of Blacks. Along with Master Potter.' Kreacher added grudgingly when Loki accidentally dropped the fire near his toes.

Resettling his weight back on his heels, Loki quenched the green flame in his palm. 'Would you mind if I had a glimpse of the necklace?' He gestured at Kreacher's cupped hands, mild voice belied his revulsion.

Kreacher hesitantly eased his grip and Loki slowly withdrew it.

A large, oval locket of heavy gold connected with the long silver chain. Even in the dim candlelight the serpentine 'S' in green emerald glowed perniciously.

'Where did you get it?' Loki placed the locket on the floor but not giving back to the house-elf either.

Shaking, Kreacher regaled him with the story of the cave beside the sea. Of the fake locket lying underneath the basin of poison. Of Voldemort's erroneous arrogance. Of the Undead-infested lake. Of 'Master Regulus' last order.

'Nothing Kreacher did make any marks upon it. Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket!' Kreacher wailed and banged his head in the cupboard door, low thuds echoed off the tapestry-covered wall.

Loki would be more concerned about waking Potter up if it was still nighttime, but Loki was awake and he was not above cutting Potter's sleep short.

'If I said I could destroy the locket, would you allow me to do it?' Loki asked, hand already hovered above the locket.

Kreacher banged his head loudly one last time before gazing up at him, green mucus glistening around his snot.

'Master Malfoy can do that?' Kreacher rasped out, hope colored every syllable.

The bright brilliant sentient flame bursting out from his hand was his answer. The blazing raven spread its wing wide before swooping down, encasing the locket in a torrent of white-tipped fire.

Thumping footsteps down the stairs alerted him to Potter's presence.

Any cheeky 'good morning' Loki thought off died on his lips at the sight of Potter. Ashen faced, glasses askew, chest falling and rising rapidly to make up for the lost oxygen, one would have thought the boy had a run-in with the vicious Garm, watchdog of Hel.

'Someone is screaming.' Potter wheezed out, spooked and agitated, 'In here.'

Loki frowned. He was certain he had not scream, neither had Kreacher. All was silent save for the hissing sound came from the burning locket.

'What exactly did you hear, Potter?'

'Save me, save me' repeatedly. It doesn't sound like human but-' Potter inhaled sharply, '-but it is getting fainter. Can't you hear it? Why aren't you doing anything to help?' Potter hands came up to cover his ears, to block out the spine-chilling scream that only he could hear.

Wordlessly Loki escorted Potter into the kitchen, levitating the locket along. Once seated, he placed a Silencing Charm on the blackening locket and watched as Potter hesitantly removed his hands.

'What did you do?' Potter asked, turning left and right while Loki was rummaging in his memory for a non-venomous species of snake.

A long brown snake appeared where the silver candlestick had been, slithering its way towards Potter, who quickly scooted away.

‘Worry not, she is harmless.’

‘’Worry not’?’ Potter echoed, appalled. ‘She wants to take a nip at my nose!’

‘Look her in the eye and tell her it is not possible then.’

Potter gave him an unimpressed look. He gave back an equally unimpressed look.

'Okay, I'll do that.’ Potter cleared his throat and pressed his face on the table, catching the snake's eyes.

A minute of silence passed then Potter was hissing low. The snake flicked her tongue in response and they were off conversing.

Even with the Alltongue, Loki could not understand this language, perhaps due to the reason that this was not a language at all. Language was a human ability that relied entirely on social convention and learning and could afford a wide range of expressions than any animal communication.

Potter and the snake seemed to have come to an agreement so Loki changed it back into the candlestick that should be silver. 

Not bronze.

He must be more tired than he thought.

‘Go back to bed Potter,’ Loki ordered, standing up and making a beeline for the comforting sofa.

‘Wha-,’ Potter open-mouthedly stared at him, ‘What do you mean by going back to bed? What was the scream from before? Why did you transfigure up a snake?’ Potter exploded, firing questions at his back. 

‘Sleep well, Potter.’ Loki called out from his cocoon of blanket, eyes already closing. 

Potter steamed alone for a while until he blew out the candles and stomped upstairs noisily.

When Harry woke up at noon, a pile of books dropped heavily onto his chest, puffing up a cloud of dust. One managed to smack him in the face, and when Harry lifted it up to glare at it, the gleaming ‘Parseltongue: Myth or Real?’ twinkled at him.

 

* * *

  

The whole house was cleaned in matters of days thanks to Dobby and Kreacher’s surprising help.

Loki quickly fell into a routine; wake up, have breakfast, hole up in the library, have dinner, sleep and a new day begun. Sometimes he went out on a walk in the neighbourhood or, if he fancied it, a trip to central London. Potter always accompanied him on these outdoor excursions and introduced Loki to the wonder of Muggle Mars chocolate bar.

There were five floors, counting the basement, in the Black House but he and Potter only frequented on the ground floor and the second landing. He warned Potter against exploring other rooms and floors, anxious about all the hexes and jinxes placed around every door. Miraculously, Potter listened.

Right now Loki was browsing through a book on jinxes with Potter scribbling nearby when Potter broke the comforting silence.

‘Your owl is still there.’ 

‘He is, isn’t he?’ Loki mumbled distractedly, looking out of the window. Thor the owl stood on the fence, still as a statue. He arrived three days ago, and after unsuccessfully getting Loki to open the window, he had resolved to perch on the fence across the house, not moving an inch. Knowing Thor the brother, Loki gave the owl another two days before he flew away.

Five days passed and the pig-headed owl remained there. On the sixth day, the city received its first downpour of the summer. Thor refused to find shelter in the tree, perching firmly on the wet fence. Realising he had been fighting a losing battle from the beginning, Loki opened the front door and let the soaking owl landed on his shoulder.

‘You really are an obdurate creation of the universe.’

 

* * *

 

Letting Thor dry up in front of the fire, Loki opened the letter Narcissa sent.

_Draco love,_

_How have you been doing? I am beside myself with worry when you suddenly left. Have you been eating well? I do hope the Nott household is treating you with the attention you deserve._

_Your father and I talked. We realise that the despicable house-elf must have had you under a powerful charm for you to protect it. Do not be afraid Draco, Dobby is dead and there will no longer be any house-elves allowed into the Manor._

_Your father has forgiven you, he asks after your well-being everyday. Lucius is worry about you. He deeply regrets raising his hand against you._

Teardrop _._

_We miss you dearly Draco. It is not the same without you quietly reading in the library or tending to your hawthorn tree. Come home with us, Draco. I understand that you are still mad at us and not wishing to talk. Nevertheless, know that your father and I always love you._

_Love,_

_Your mother._

Loki chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Lucius and Narcissa would go as far as blaming a house-elf to prolong the image of a perfect family? That was the new kind of low. They were merely in denial that Loki had not turned out the way they supposed Draco to. Taking out two sheets of parchment, Loki wrote to Narcissa and Theo, the latter Loki thanked for pretending to be was housing Loki all along. He enclosed that letter with a simple black ring and a ‘I’ll explain when we meet in person’ note and tied it to Thor’s outstretched leg.

‘Deliver this to Theo when the rain stops. This,’ Loki put away the three-sentenced letter for Narcissa, ‘I will use the owl post service.'

 

* * *

 

On July 31st, Loki took Potter out to Diagon Alley. After not that long out of contact with the wizarding world, the number of wizards and witches milling around in the same place baffled Loki. All pointy hats and impractical clothing. Swishy billowing gaudy robes would just hinder their movement when the need for battle aroused. Loki was not the right person to criticise clothing’s colour scheme but at least his green battle outfit blended in with the many greeneries of Asgard! Orange, yellow, purple, blue in the brown setting of houses? Those wizards’ heads should be split open to study for future reference.

‘Cheer up, Draco, it’s sunny today.’ Potter said around his spoon of ice cream. They were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, test-tasting ice-cream flavours.

‘I am cheery,’ Loki said seriously.

‘Right, of course you are.’ Potter lengthened the ‘i’ and went back to his ice cream.

Loki missed the timid boy. Living under the same roof with him had trained Potter out of his fear for Loki’s stare, glare and overall eye power.

He spooned the red ice cream and tried it. Rum with a touch of pepper. Loki tried the ash-colored scoop next. Just like the name said, earl grey tea and lavender.

‘Can I try yours?’ Potter asked, pushing his cup towards Loki.

Loki shrugged and took Potter’s cup. Chocolate with a dash of mint and caramelised sugar.

'So mundane. Your choice of flavour is getting boring, Potter.’

'Speak for yourself,’ Potter made a face at him, quaking from head to toes. ‘What flavour is that?’

‘Dragon Blood.’

‘I am never ordering that.’

‘Your loss.’ Loki then turned towards the menu hanging above, ‘What haven’t we ordered?’

His tomato soup was a disaster. Loki never liked tomato to begin with, but he had hoped that since it was ice cream, tomato should taste differently.

How wrong he was.

'Why did you even order this?’ Potter grimaced at him after helping Loki finished this scoop 

‘Curiosity I supposed.’ Loki grinned

‘Curiosity kills the cat.’ Potter deadpanned.

‘And satisfaction brings it back.’ He shot back, finishing the clotted cream scoop.

Potter shook his head and continued savouring his scoops of lemon pepper chicken and popcorn flavour.

‘Your birthday present, Potter,’ Draco pushed the simple black ring across the table to Potter, who was preparing to stand up. ‘If you ever need to write to someone fearing the letters being intercepted, place this on a parchment and write down the name of the recipient, only he or she will then see your message on the nearest, most noticeable surface and write their reply. Once you remove the ring, everything that is written will vanish, both on your side and their side.’

Potter picked it up, slid it onto to his thumb and just stared at it.

‘When is your birthday Draco?’ Potter asked in a trance.

‘Why does it matter? It has already passed-'

'The day of your birth, Draco.' The dark-haired boy fixed him with a glare he definitely must have picked up from Loki.

As Loki, he never had a day of birth; it was just the coldest day of winter. But as Draco, he did have one.

'Fifth of June if you wish to know so badly. Now let's get a move on, we are going to be late.'

The walk back to Grimmauld Place was quite, not the awkward one but the companionable one.

'Thanks Draco,' Potter smiled happily at him when they both grasped the glowing ashtray that would whisk them to the Weasleys' house.

 

* * *

 

Loki intended to stay for the party only and left Potter there at the Burrow while he made his way back to Grimmauld Place. A little accident with birthday cake and jugs of pumpkin juice crashing into his head made him rather dizzy and he dared not to apparate in this state lest he risked splinching. So the Weasley matriarch had put him in Weasley’s room with Potter and threatened to knock him out cold if he tried to leave during the night

Loki wisely took heed.

She left them there with a fond goodnight, mumbling distractedly about a rather sudden strong blast of wind when she was levitating the food.

Morning saw Loki helping the Weasley matriarch with breakfast. After unsuccessfully shooing him away, she had reluctantly accepted his help. Potter woke up half an hour later and offered his assistance as well. The woman just sighed, leaving the pan for Potter to tend to while she toasted breads.

The twins were the next to be up, arguing from their room to the stairs. As they each put a foot on the first step of stairs, the steps turned into slide and they both came tumbling down, landing a mess of limps. A gentle gust of wind blew the well-placed mortar of finely-crushed pepper straight for their nose and they were coughing and sneezing 

'Fred! George!’ The Weasley matriarch shouted, stomping out of the kitchen to scold the twins. ‘I warn you many times about pranks! Who did you set it for? Draco or Harry? You are lucky those two didn’t get caught in this or you will be cleaning the entire house with broom and mop-' 

Loki blocked out the rest of the threats and smirked triumphantly at the eggs in the pan. Potter listened on as the cleaning threats upped from the house to the garden to every house in the vicinity.

As Loki sat down for breakfast, he found himself boxed on both side by the sneezing twin.

‘Fancy see—ACHOO-ing you this morning Dra—ACHOO-co dearest.’ George said, sneezing into Loki’s hair.

‘Lovely ACHOO day to have a Quitditch match, don’ ya ACHOO think, Georgie?’ Fred said from his right, directing his sneeze at Loki’s hand.

‘Indeed it is, Freddie. But ACHOO don’ cha think we need to have breakfast first? Dracie went through all ’tis trouble to make for ACHOO us.’

‘You are ACHOO-lutely right. Let us make a toast to Dracie’s hard work-‘

‘You know,’ Loki pushed his dish away in distaste and stood up. ‘Let’s have that game now. Breakfast can wait for later. 

It was passed noon when he, Potter and the Weasley children trudged back inside, tired but thrilled. And somehow his few-hour-stay at the Burrow had turned into three days.

 

* * *

 

All too early, school started and Theo greeted him with an unconventional welcome on the train.

‘Tell me you don’t swing that way.’

‘I don’t swing that way.’

‘Then what is it?' 

‘A ring.’

‘You are aggravating.’

‘I live to aggravate human.’

‘Human? And you are not human?’

‘No, I am Loki of Asgard, the Trickster and God of Mischief.'

Stunned silence followed Loki's statement.

Theodore broke out in gale of laughter, clutching his side as he laughed. Loki chuckled along but could not keep out a twinge of sadness. He knew nobody would believe it anyway. Draco Malfoy, a god? Absurd.

'You are impossible, you know,' Theodore told him as his laugh subsided into wheezing. 'So what does this do?' He showed Loki his left hand with the ring on the index finger.

'A 'thank-you' gift. Turn it and those who wish you harm will temporary lose their hearing or sight or any sense that is most important to them.' Loki explained.

'Wow,' Theo marveled at the simple black ring, 'Thank you.'

Loki smiled genuinely.

 

* * *

 

There was not much change at school except for the newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who, after Quirrell, Loki thought could not be worse.

Apperently he was dead wrong.

Lockhart was even more idiotic than Quirrell.

A narcissus, self-obsessed, attention-seeking, barmy twonk.

This time around Theodore skipped Defense with him.

He wondered when Hogwarts headmasters normally retired.

The absence of ghosts and Mrs. Norris did not escape Loki’s attention either.

Rumors had it that one of Peeves’ prank went to far and all the ghosts were sucked back into hell, hapless Mrs. Norris were pulled in along. Others convinced themselves that the ghosts’ corpses vanished, therefore, without a tether to life, they faded away.

'I would rather you not tell me where you heard those Theo.' Loki side-glanced at Parkinson.

‘Toads croaked boastfully but they know no stuff.' Theo said

'True that.’ Loki half-smiled. ‘So what do we have today?’

’Double Charms with Ravenclaw and Transfiguration with Hufflepuff. And tonight,’ Theodore faked cheer, ‘Compulsory attendance for the Duelling Club, eight o’clock in the Great Hall.’

 

* * *

 

Loki rubbed the sore spot where Weasley's astray Disarming Charm hit him on the shoulder. The old wand was incompatible with Weasley's magic, leading to unwanted accident. The club was stopped short, Snape sent him straight to the Hospital Wing with Theodore to escort him while Weasley was given a detention for a magical mishap.

That was quite unreasonable. He thought Head of House should not encourage childish house rivalry?

Instead of Hospital Wing, Loki went back for the Dungeon. It was not that serious of an injury anyway.

Malevolent magic suddenly flared from behind him. It felt a lot like Voldemort’s magic back in first year but less condensed and more animalistic.

Panicking, Loki turned around on the spot. The oppressing magic surrounded him from all side, pressing in tighter until he had shortness of breath.

'Draco?' Theodore frowned when Loki stopped suddenly.

The wall behind Theodore exploded outwards, showering bricks and water on them. A lizard tail shot out from the opening. Quick as flash, Loki pushed Theo out of the way and felt the cold keeled skin of a snake wrapped around his torso and he was pulled into the dark metal tube.

 

* * *

 

The impact jarred Theodore shoulder. He blinked the pain out of his eyes just as Draco’s legs vanished into the darkness. Horror-struck, Theodore stood up and started running along the wall. As he rounded the corner, he slammed into something hard. The impact knocked him clean off his feet, the other person yelled out and Theodore heard the low thump of body hitting floor.

Potter’s ’Where is Draco?’ coincided with his ‘Draco is captured’ and they just stared at each other.

‘I know where the snake is heading. Come on!’ Potter grabbed his sleeves and almost yanked him off balance. ‘Hermione, Ron, you two find a teacher and bring him to the second floor. We’ll meet you there.’

‘How do you know it’s a snake?’ Theodore’s question was lost to Potter’s ears as they ran at breakneck speed to the second floor.

Potter headed straight for the taps as the abandoned girl’s bathroom came into their view.

‘The snake went down here,’ Potter said frustratedly, doing circles around the sink. ‘There _has_ to be a secret door.’

‘No time. Stay back, Potter,’ Theodore warned and pointed his wand at the sink.

‘ _Expulso!_ ’

The sink and part of the floor blew up, the force of the explosion slammed him into the wall and sent debris slicing his face.

Ears ringing, he faintly heard Granger’s yell ‘In here!’. He blinked dust out of his eyes and saw Potter sitting up, shaking his head. Where the sink stood before there was a gaping hole Theodore could not see the bottom of. Weasley, Granger and a professor came skidding on the floor.

‘Professor,-‘ Whatever he was about to say next got stuck in his throat at the sight of mustard tight-fitting robe. Instead he turned to Granger. ‘I thought Potter told you to grab a professor, not an impostor?’

‘We ran into Professor Lockhart on our way to professor Snape,’ Granger bristled, ignoring Weasley’s ‘I told you so.’ . ‘And I thought Draco needed help as soon as he can get?’

‘Fine.’ Theodore conceded crossly. Then he turned back to Lockhart, ‘Professor, my friend was captured by a snake and we need your help. I truly believe that you are as good as you are depicted in your books.’ He poured as much sarcasm as he could into the words.

It seemed Lockhart was not adept at interpreting sarcasm as he strode forward confidently, white teeth showing for his smile.

‘Rest assured, my students, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award shall lay down my life for your safety.’ Lockhart stood beside Theodore and peered down the pit. Theodore could easily imagine the drain sucking all the blood out of the boasting professor’s face. ‘I’m afraid me alone would not be strong enough defeat this beast. I am going to require assistance from other professors. Wait here for me, I’ll return with-‘ Lockhart turned around but Theodore had grabbed hold the tail of his coat.

‘Professor, I think then will be too late for Draco. I see you under.’ With a wave to the other three, Theodore plunged into the darkness, taking Lockhart along with him.

He let go of Lockhart as they slid down the dark slimy pipe. As Theodore started to wonder if he was gonna go ‘splat’ when the slide ended, the slide levelled out and he shot out, face-down on the damp stone floor. Lockhart crashed into him. Before he even got his arms under him, Potter came whizzing out the tunnel, followed by Granger and Weasley, and they all piled on top of Theodore.

‘Ouch! Ronald!’ Granger squirmed, further pressing him on the floor.

‘Sorry Hermione.’ Weasley got off and he could breathe a little bit more easily.

Slowly they all got off of him. Potter offered him a hand up, which Theodore used to pulled the Gryffindor down onto the floor.

‘That’s for crushing me.’

Potter gave him an all-too-familiar glare and Theodore was reminded that Draco might be dying as they milled about.

‘Can you tell where the snake is Potter?’ He asked, erasing all traces of glee.

‘It’s just up ahead.’ Potter hesitated, ‘And it keeps repeating ‘Kill the Malfoy spawn.’’

Theodore ploughed into the tunnel ahead without a word, the others following closely behind. He didn’t stop, even as the stone floor changed into a litter of small animal bones and the vivid green snake shed came into view.

‘You said the snake wrapped itself around Malfoy?’ Weasley asked from behind.

The shed was twenty feet long and so big that he could circle it with both arms. The strength of its coil must be devastating.

‘I’m sure Draco is alright. He can find a way out even without us.’ Granger voiced her thoughts, reassuring herself as her words quelled his worries.

‘Yeah,’ Weasley scoffed, almost fondly, ‘The git is as cunning as a snake. Do you know that he managed to prank the twin?’

Potter laughed. ‘I remember Fred saying never needing pepper at home.’

‘Hate to cut your chitchat short, but I’ll take my leave.’ Lockhart cut in, reminding Theodore that the inept man was still there. When he turned around to face him, the man was training his wand on them.

‘Be nice little children and I’ll make the Memory Charm for you as painless as I can.’ Lockhart moved near the skin and tore off a piece, ‘I shall bring this to the Headmaster and tell him of the tragic loss of his students, one perishes and the other four lose their memory in the grief over a lost friend.’

‘Blimey that’s how your books were written? You found those who had truly took the journeys, asked them for the story then you obliviated them?’ Weasley asked incredulously.

‘Some of them were rather tight-lipped on the details so I took the liberty to imperio them.’

‘Unforgivable Curse? Aren’t you afraid we will tell everyone your secret?’ Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘You won’t even remember your name after I obliviate you.’ Lockhart flashed him a smile 

‘Nice talk and all but I don’t really have time for this,’ Theodore said in a bored manner.

‘You will have all the time when you are confined in St. Mungo. Now say goodbye to your memory. _Obli-‘_

‘Expelliarmus!’ Potter cried, taking out his wand in the time it took Lockhart to raise his over the head. The wand flew into Potter’s out stretched hand.

Theodore wasted no time to follow up with an ‘ _Incarcerous’,_ binding Lockhart’s hands, legs and gagging him. Lockhart looked feeble once again.

‘Do you truly believe the Malfoys will leave you alone if their son died because of your incompetence? They govern the world from behind the shadow. Think about what they could turn your life into. Death would be a blessing to you.’ Theodore sneered at the trembling man. ‘Pray that Draco is still alive.’

With that he continued on his way.

 

* * *

  

The solid wall with two intertwined serpents carved onto, their emerald eyes glinting. Theodore was preparing for another Expulso Curse when low, hair-raising hiss came from Potter. The serpents parted as the wall cracked open and they walked in.

Towering stone pillars rose into the darkness. They could all hear faint crashing echo around the chamber. Suddenly, Draco’s voice rang out, commanding and terse. 

‘Close your eyes! Use your ring now, Theo!’

Theodore turned his ring clockwise. One of the pillars beyond the darkness came tumbling down in a loud explosion.

Draco skidded to a stop next to them, bleeding from various cuts and gashes. The shape of an elegant silver sword enveloped around his wand, casting silver light onto the wet floor.

‘Quick, get out of here,’ With one hand he ushered them closer to the entrance, ‘Even with the sight gone, the basilisk can still smell. Hurry-‘ Angry spitting came just a moment before a pillar fell sideways, cutting out their exit.

‘ _Steikje!’_ Draco frustratedly bit out. Theodore didn’t have the time to ask what that was as he was diving behind a pillar, barely escaping the falling rocks.

‘Don’t come near!’ Draco blasted Potter away, ‘The basilisk only wants me.’ With that he ran into the darkness, leading the humongous snake away from them.

‘Basilisk, basilisk, basilisk, what do I know about basilisk?’ Granger muttered near him, nervously chewing away her fingernails, ‘Hatched from a chicken egg beneath a toad, its stare is murderous; all who fixed with the beams of his eyes shall suffer instant death. It has dragon like skin that can deflect any spells casted upon it. There's no weakness!' She stomped her foot frustratedly.

'How long will the basilisk remain blind?' Weasley frowned

‘A short while. Draco didn't specify when he explained,' Theodore said, 'I don’t suppose any of you bring along a knife?’ Theodore asked rhetorically

'No,' Weasley studied the debris left behind from the fall of a pillar, 'But these make great throwing knives.'

 

* * *

 

Draco was expertly maneuvering around the basilisk, searching for an opening to spring up from a pillar to stab the eyes. Potter had sacrificed his robe to make a knife carrier. Between him and the three Gryffindors, they have transfigured over twenty knives, all double-edged and razor sharp. Now to get two of those imbedded onto the snake eyes...

'Hey ugly!' Weasley taunted, throwing a large piece of rock at the snake head. 'Come and get us!'

'What are you dunderheads doing?' Draco conveyed his anger and shock excellently in mere five words, but Theodore was too busy aiming to pay much attention to the blond.

The snake was rushing at them fast but none of the knives had even come near the eyes. Potter's aim was the most precise but that knife hit the eyes handle first. The snake opened its fang-filled mouth, prepared to devour them all, when Draco jumped on its head and stabbed the eyes. Dark hot blood spattered them. The snake thrashed its head wildly and Draco was sent crashing into a pillar with a sickening 'thump'.

Wasting no time, they rushed to the barely conscious Draco, mindful of the thrashing blind snake.

Draco was trying to sit himself up, panting heavily, hands still clutching the wand-sword tightly.

'Right as rain, I suppose?' He asked cheekily, smiling to mask the fear he felt when he saw Draco's leg got bent in an unnatural position.

'As fit as a fiddle.' Draco replied with equal amount of cheek, smiling tiredly at him.

He heard the snake howl in anger from behind.

What happened next happened so fast. One moment he was seeing Draco's smile, the next he was pushed against the smooth surface of the column. Warm liquid splattered on his back. The stench of blood rushed into his nose. Theodore stole a glance over his shoulder.

What he saw stopped his heart.

Draco stood there, shielding the four of them. The basilisk's set of saber fangs sank deep into his chest. His blood-soaked lips gave his grin a menacing touch.

'Go to Hel.' He rasped out, swinging the sword to cut the basilisk's head clean off its body. The basilisk hit the ground with a rumbling ‘THUNK’. Loki collapsed as well, as the teeth keeping him up were no longer there.

‘DRACO!’ Theodore’s shout mixed with Granger’s horrified scream as they all crowded around Draco. Blood soaked his black robe. Several deep gashes cut diagonally from shoulder to stomach, some deep enough that Theodore could glimpse of white.

Granger gently slid her robe under Draco’s head and pressed Weasley’s robe onto the wound. Draco dazedly gave a pained protest. 

‘I know it hurts but I’m so sorry,’ Granger said through her tears, ‘Please hang on, Draco, help is coming. What’s the antidote for basilisk venom? Oh why can’t I remember it?’ She asked herself angrily, gnawing at her lip until it was bleeding.

'No…antidote…’ Draco coughed weakly, wincing ’Can’t feel…finger…anymore..’

Theodore hurriedly felt for a pulse. It was getting fainter by second. Draco’s hand was cold to the touch, gradually turning blue.

’So pessimistic. I am not letting you die, Malfoy. Still have a bone to pick with you in chess.’ Weasley put on a brave face.

‘Yeah, and I haven’t given you your next year birthday present yet,’ Potter added, wiping tears from his glasses.

The blue had reached Draco’s neck and slowly covered his face. A playful smile still tugged on his lips. When he opened his eyes to look at them, the mismatched irises were clouded from view with a veil of dull red.

‘What…better way…to die than…being…surrounded…by friends? Draco breathed out, eyes slipping shut.

‘Don’t say that, Draco, you are not dying,’ Granger said determinedly, ‘Theodore, tear your coat into strips, we need to cover the deep cuts first then-‘

Heart-lifting music filled the air, getting louder by seconds until flame erupted on Potter’s shoulder. Theodore had read about phoenixes and their light-oriented tendency. As a Slytherin through and through, he never dreamt of seeing one, much less being in close proximation of one. The crimson bird jumped off Potter’s shoulder and stood near Draco’s head.

‘He…llo, Phoenix,’ Draco spoke with difficulty, struggling to keep his eyelids open, ‘Im no’ worth…. sheddin’ tears for, …am I? The person…ification …of all things evil. Chaos. Calamity. But…’ Draco took in a shuddering breath, turning his head sideways to look at the phoenix, ‘Thank…you for…comin’, my friends…..need your…help…’

Draco’s eye drew shut and what little rise and fall his chest had been doing slowed down significantly 

‘Oh no, he’s going into shock! If we don’t get him to the Hospital Wing soon, he will die!’ Granger said in a frenzy.

’The entrance to the cave is blocked!’ Potter pointed out

‘And how do you suppose we could climb up a near vertical slide?’ Weasley added.

‘I-I don’t know! Maybe- 

Through all the panic talking, Theodore watched in silence as the phoenix lay its head where the fang had pierced Draco’s chest the deepest. He watched as thick, pearly tears trickle down the glossy feathers. He watched as the gashes knitted themselves back together where tears touch them. He watched as the unnatural blue fade from Draco’s skin. And he released a grateful laugh, when Draco’s eyes fluttered open, it was the familiar grey and green.

The others quietened at the sound of his laugh, and they were rushing at Draco, who had slipped back into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

The phoenix gave them all a lift out of the tunnel and dropped them all off in the Headmaster’s Office. Asking Weasley and Granger to take Draco to the Hospital Wing, he and Potter stayed back to give their stories.

‘I see,’ The Headmaster said after listening to their tale, ’So the basilisk had a grudge against young Draco Malfoy and looked to kill him?’

‘Yes Professor.’ Potter answered, trying to keep in a yawn.

’Thank you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott. I won’t keep you from your bed any longer.’

When Nott closed the door behind him, he saw the Headmaster looked at Lockhart over his half-moon spectacles, evaluating 

Without any prior agreement, Potter and he both set off for the Hospital Wing, where Weasley and Granger had already occupied two chairs around Draco’s bed. He settled down on a chair and waited for his friend to wake up.

 

* * *

 

Loki dreamt of returning back to Asgard. The golden castle, Frigga’s garden, the Bifrost. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered. Except there was no one there.

No servants bustling about with daily works. No soldiers training. No farmers, shoppers bargaining heatedly.

Silence greeted his sense.

‘Funny how you remember Asgard, isn’t it?’ A voice from up above the apple tree drew his attention. ‘You associate sounds with Asgard but subconsciously, you always wish for silent.'

‘Who are you?’ Loki asked guardedly.

‘I am you, dummy,’ The boy that jumped down from the branch looked exactly like Loki did when he was a teenager. Short tame black hair and a sorcery book under his arm. His eyes were mismatched like Loki’s, blue and green to his gray and green.

‘You are Draco.’ Loki concluded.

‘Well, true to an extend.’ Draco struck a thinking pose, fist placed beneath the chin. ‘You are Loki _and_ Draco, I am Draco _and_ Loki. See? We’re the same.’

‘Why am I here?’

‘No reasons, I’m just curious.’ Draco shrugged.

‘Therefore you constructed this dream scape and took me here?’

‘No,’ Draco laughed, ‘ _You_ constructed this dream scape, I just merely drop by.’

‘Why would I recreate Asgard? I don’t miss it.’ Loki asked, mystified.

‘You _don’t_ miss it? Subconscious never lies, me. In the deepest part of you heart, there’s child in you wishing to see the real Asgard once more. You love Frigga very much.’ Draco said subdued, and then he was patting Loki’s shoulder jovially, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll see Asgard again soon enough.’

‘Wha-?’ Loki did not even get a word in edgewise before Draco was talking again.

‘By the way, don’t be afraid of the blue so much. It doesn’t define you.’ Draco raised a blue-marked arm to Loki’s face and snapped snowflakes into existence.

Loki just stared at it and unwillingly smiled.

‘You are very strange.’

‘ _We_ are strange.’ Draco fixed him and glanced at the apple tree. ‘Looks like your time is up. Have fun at school. And see you when you die. Or almost die.

‘Wait, what are-‘ Loki tried to ask but Asgard was already fading away as well as Draco.

 

* * *

 

His eyelids are heavy, Loki decided after unsuccessfully demanding them to open. His entire body is heavy as a matter of fact is replaced by lead.

That was a strange dream he had. Draco had commanded the Jotun power like it was what he was born to do. Loki had to touch the Casket to turn his skin blue. And what did Draco mean by dying? Did Loki come that close to dying? Then why it was Asgard that greeted him instead of Hel? He distantly remembered the feeling of sharp fangs tearing at his skin and molten hot poison traveling ups and downs his body.

He truly should be _dead_.

No amount of antidote could neutralize that potent of venom 

...Who is he even thinking about? Magic existing among Midgardians was unco, and for a small number of them to command it, it was near impossible.

Loki should have gotten used to seeing impossibilities being made possible by wizards.

Sooner or later he would meet an Undead face-to-face.

Or an Immortal.

Whichever decided to see him out first.

The weight lifted off his eyelids. Struggling to pry the glued eyelids open, he had to shut it immediately because of the glaring candle light.

Lifting his eyelids up slowly this time, he blinked the tears out of his eyes, and looked up.

Candles lined along the Hospital Wing wall. A fir tree stood from floor to ceiling adorned in golden socks stood at the corner. Loki turned to the bedside table. It was laden with gifts of every shapes and wrapping papers 

He could count his friends on one hand and still have fingers left.

Who would send presents to him?

‘’Bout time you wake up,’ Theo’s voice rang out from his feet and there was rustling as he put the parchment down on the bed. ‘How’re you feeling?’

 _Tired. Lethargic. Parched. Overall miserable_. ‘Bored.’ Loki decided.

‘I know you would say that.’ Theodore smiled wickedly, hefting his school bag to Loki’s face. ‘Lucky for you, Christmas break started so there’s not that much of schoolwork to catch up on. But Binns apparently had no sense of times and assigned essays for Christmas. So you have to do yours and help me with mine.’ Theodore finished, brandishing two rolls of parchment at Loki.

‘Layabout.’

‘I personally prefer the term ‘brainbox’’ 

‘Layabout.’ Loki repeated, couldn’t help the smile tugging on his lips. There were dark circles under Theo’s eyes. Theo looked like he could use a bed in the Infirmary to catch a nap. 

Theo shrugged and looked at the door ‘The others will be here soon.’

‘Others who?’

‘You are really dense sometimes.' Theo sighed.

'I beg your pardon?' Loki took offense to that. He prided himself on his intellect and thoughts. Even coming from a friend, he wouldn't let this slide. 'Don't call me -'

He did not get the chance to voice his displeasure when the door swung open so quickly it banged into the door, rattling the the cup of water on his table.

Madam Pomfrey flew out from her office and proceeded to give the two Gryffindor boys a third degree. Granger hung behind, staring disapprovingly at her fellow Gryffindors.

When Madam Pomfrey finally let them off the hook, Potter and Weasley went on tiptoe to his bed.

'Thought you gonna sleep till the end of term,' Weasley said as greeting.

'How long-?'

'Eight days. Today is Christmas Eve,' Potter answered before he heard the full question.

The mood turned subdued immediately.

 _Eight?_ Loki gave himself a mental shake. Never before had he been confined to a healing bed for that long. The longest he had stayed in the healing ward was five days and all his bones were shattered then.

Loki dearly missed the resilience of Asgardian's body.

'Fawkes, the phoenix that is, healed the worst of your wounds but you still have a crushed ribcage, fractured arms, twisted leg and various cuts scattered through out your body. You also have a mild concussion.' Granger listed out his injuries, making Loki's eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

'Oh.' That was all he could say.

'What's with the down face?' Weasley said when no one said anything else, moving to the pile of presents. 'There are presents waiting to be opened. Looks like Mom knitted for you a Weasley jumper.' He held up a rumpled brown package.

Loki took it and untied the red ribbon. The green 'D' stood out against the silver wool, soft and warm to the touch.

‘Thank you, Draco, for saving us,’ Granger leant in a gave him a brief hug, ‘For the second time.’

‘You are welcome.’ Loki dazedly whisper, too shock to response appropriately to his first thank-you hug.

‘Right, this is too emotional for me,’ Theo said, hands reaching for a basket of candies.

‘That’s for Draco,’ Granger said displeasedly.

‘So? Not like he can finish all this by himself,’ Theo responded without a care, taking a chocolate frog out of the basket.

Loki watched as they bicker back and forth, Weasley sneak a hand into the basket and Potter keep a look out for Granger.

Perhaps he should start referring to those three by their first names, but he was getting used to calling them by their last names. Last names would do just fine for the three Gryffindors, Loki decided.

 

* * *

 

Easter started at the same time his hospital stay ended, right on time to decide for third year electives. Loki selected Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care for Magical Creatures without thinking of it.

No one paid him attention when he appeared in class, for which he was forever thankful.

Lockhart was fired and Snape took up Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The man knew his stuff so it was rather enjoyable to attend. Loki hadn’t gotten past his fascination with Snape childish attempts at tormenting Potter.

When it was time to board the train, Potter pulled him aside.

‘Can I still stay with you?’ Potter asked, unsure of himself.

'Sure,’ Dobby and Kreacher had made the Black House a rather liveable place, it would be such a waste if no one stayed there. ‘I’ll come pick you up.’

Potter’s happy smile quelled Loki’s worry about the summer up ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got out of my hand. Please leave a review on your way out.
> 
> Steikje: Damn (in Norwegian)


	3. Unsought yet granted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's third year did not go the way he planned. He should have learnt his lesson, plan was of no use in Hogwarts or even at home.

Loki regarded Lucius over the edge of his book. The man was reading a contract of sort and signing it in a flurry of quill movement. Feeling eyes upon him, Lucius put his quill down and looked Loki's way. Hurriedly Loki directed his eyes to the paragraph that he must have read five times without registering a word. He waited until the scratching of quill on parchment started again to lift his eyes up.

When Lucius had dropped by the library, levitating a stack of paper, he had stopped dead at the door and arched an eyebrow at Loki's pillow fortress. The large upturned oval table was buried in mounds of blankets and pillows Loki nabbed from his room and various unused guest bedrooms. Loki himself had his feet up on a chair and a pillow dragged over his midsection. Lucius wordlessly placed the papers on an unused chair and ambled deeper into the library. When he came back, it was with a mahogany desk in tow. He set it across from Loki and started signing papers, something he usually did in the privacy of his own chamber.

And so began a new routine.

Everyday since the start of the summer, from noon till evening, Lucius would come by and do his paperwork while Loki read on.

This daunted Loki. Lucius adored Draco, that much Loki knew, but he never expressed that love directly or even indirectly. Hugs and praises were scarce. The only time Lucius spent with Loki was to teach him about Nobility and Blood Purity. These private lessons stopped when six-year-old Loki, bored and surfeited, had quoted words for words from the Pure-Blood Directory Lucius used as reference.

The older Loki was, the less contact he had with Lucius. Mealtimes were the only time Loki saw Lucius and those were always short and filled with stilted silence.

For Lucius to actively seek out Loki just to be near him, that did not bode well with Loki. The first few days since Lucius had moved his work to the library, Loki had absolutely nothing productive done. All the books he opened were closed without any drop of knowledge staying in his memory. Parchments for homework were covered in distracted rune diagrams. Lucius never said anything, so Loki gradually got used to the man's presence, only stealing glances every now and then.

Narcissa's familiar magic brushed against his sense. Loki turned just in time to see her knock against the ajar door and allow herself in.

'The afternoon tea, my dears.' She set the tray down on the table, complete with two cups and two plates full of finger sandwiches and checkered cakes. These were the usual afternoon tea things with golden vines and ever-moving lanceolate leaves on the cups. Narcissa gave Lucius hand a squeeze, and ever the gentleman, he lightly pecked the back of her hand, to which she granted a bemused smile.

Careful not to tangle the elegant dress she wore, Narcissa kneeled down in front of him. She held out two cupped hands, prompting him to raise his. The apple she dropped onto his hands was a lovely creation of nature. Small and round, it fitted perfectly into his palms. Rich glossy crimson with a patch of creamy green splashed near the stem, it was smooth and cool to his touch.

'The first to ripe of the season.' She leant in and lightly kissed his forehead. Smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on the fabric, she made her way out. 'Dinner at six. Don't be late.' Narcissa warned, a threatening gleam entered her eyes.

'Yes, Mother.'

'Of course, dear.'

The door clicked shut soundlessly, as Narcissa's magic glided down the stairs.

Loki rolled the apple in his palm, deep in thought.

Narcissa and Lucius both had been acting rather outré. First Lucius seek to spend time in Loki's presence with no further intention. And now Narcissa offered to do _domestic_ tasks willingly.

Narcissa, a lady in every sense, bustled about amidst flying pans and steaming pots?

That was too remote from reality for Loki to even consider.

The artistically displayed pink-and-yellow sponge cakes begged to differ, however. As well as breakfast, lunch and all the meals preceded them. Narcissa and Narcissa alone prepared all those.

His suggestion to find a new house-elf got shot down as soon as the words left his mouth. Narcissa put her foot down and refused to let another one of those abominable creatures into the manor. Loki clear-sightedly yielded to her wish at the glint of steel in her gaze. He had not attempt to broach the subject ever since, though he did make an effort to assist her in cooking every now and then.

Loki bit into the apple. The bland taste caught him of guard. For an apple two months shy of harvest to _not_ be tart, magic must have been at work.

* * *

 

Loki did not anticipate how drastically different this summer compared to others, how _enjoyable_ it was.

Sundays garden tea party where Lucius showed himself to be a cunning politician and masterful debater and engaged Loki in ongoing debates of power. Mornings where Narcissa walked with him, arm in arm, around the vast garden, admiring the clear blue sky of summer. Evenings where he, against Narcissa's insistence on needing no help, tended to shimmering pot of soup or just sat back and watched Narcissa work miracles with various types of colorful pastries.

Loki had known since day one that Lucius and Narcissa loved Draco, but Loki had been afraid of their rejection once they found out Loki was not their child. So Loki, jaded as he was, had distanced himself from them. He would rather be alone than get hurt later.

Narcissa and Lucius had taken his cue and refrained from showering him in love and care. They left him to his own device for the most part. Up until this summer when Narcissa greeted him with a hug as desperate as the first one Loki received from her at the station. He had barely stepped off the steps when someone locked their arms around his neck and pulled him close. His mind screamed at him to defend but the cascade of fair hair arrested his call for the fire. Narcissa hid her face on his shoulder, her silent tears soaking through the fabric.

To Malfoys, emotions were exploitable weaknesses that must not, under any circumstances, be displayed in pubic. Narcissa had foregone that principle at mere sight of him; even the head of house Lucius did not correct his wife's misconduct as he stood watching from behind.

His guarded demeanor melted away as days went by and nothing changed in Narcissa and Lucius' manners. He warily accepted the care and love they bestowed upon him. Without his consent, he grew accustomed to it. For the first time he knew what it felt like to have caring parents. Parents who paid attention to and loved him just because he was their child, without any hidden motives. They would stop loving him when they knew who hid beneath Draco, he knew that; but Loki gladly took the love as it was while it lasted.

A note from Potter reminded Loki of the promise he made at the start of the holiday. Loki felt a twinge of guilt at giving the boy false hope but he did not wish to leave the manor either. So he compromised by giving Potter's full reign of the house, asking Dobby, and by extension Kreacher, to keep an eye out on him.

Sooner than he wished, summer had ended. On the platform, for the first time in three years, Loki promised to return for Christmas.

'-co, -aco, DRACO MALFOY!' A sharp pain to his shin drew him out of his reverie and allowed him to register Theo's yell. They were sitting in a compartment, as the train picked up speed.

'Pardon?' Loki asked, indiscreetly brushing off Theo's shoes print on his trousers. Loki was tempted to kick back but he did bring this onto himself for not paying attention so he refrained

'I asked, 'How was your summer?'' Theo repeated his question with a resigned huff.

'It was pleasant.' Loki spoke the truth.

'That's the first time.' Theo's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

'There is a first for everything.' He carelessly shrugged, returning his attention to the half-finished essay.

Stomping from outside the door had him look up. It seemed the other three had arrived, and by the sound of it, arguing.

Granger's dismayed 'Crookshanks!' drew his attention to the yellow fur-ball that had slid itself in through the crack at the door. The cat leapt onto the table and regarded both him and Theodore with a funnily flat face.

'See Hermione! That monster wants to eat Scabbers the moment you let it out!' Weasley shrieked horrifiedly from beyond the door.

'Oh hush Ron.' Granger placated with experienced ease, as if she had been doing this for quite sometime. 'He just hates being in the cage, that's all.'

'You keep telling yourself that, but cats eat mice, Hermione. Someday Scabber will end up as food for it.' Weasley fired back almost immediately. It sounded like those two had had the same argument for a while...

Potter slid the door open thunderously and stalked in, making Theodore jump as he was scratching the furry cat behind its ears.

He hefted his trunk noisily on the rack and sat down with a 'thump' next to Loki, quietly steaming in annoyance.

'I can't tell Crookshanks not to eat mouse, can I?' Granger walked in, a cat carrier in hand.

'Then at least keep it caged when Scabber is around!' Weasley appeared, scowling at the ginger cat that had taken a liking to Theodore's legs.

'Crookshanks needs to move, Ronald! Didn't you see how quickly he ran when I opened the cage?' Granger sat down next to Theodore and picked up the ginger cat, who purred discontentedly.

'It can move when you leave him in the dormitory where Scabber is out of harm's way!' Weasley sat opposite of her, hand covering a lump on his chest.

As they bantered back and forth, Loki leant back and asked a disgruntled Potter, 'How long have they been at this?'

'A day.' Potter said tersely, tolerance nearly ran dry.

'They argue like an old married couple.' Theodore faux cooed from the side, just loud enough to be heard over the argument.

'We are not!' Granger denied immediately, cheeks flared red as she rounded on him.

'I'm just observing.' Theo raised his hand defensively but a cheeky grin played across his lips.

The two came to an agreement quickly after that. Weasley reluctantly allowed Crookshanks to be out of the cage with the condition that Granger held onto it at all time.

Peace finally returned to the compartment. Loki started on his essay where he had left off, keeping an ear out when Potter explained Mr. Weasley's warning regarding one fugitive of the century, Sirius Black.

'But-' Potter hesitated briefly before continuing, 'Sirius Black is not a Dark wizard. I guess?' He ended with an upward tilt, like he wasn't sure of that himself.

'Didn't I explicitly tell you not to go into any other rooms?' Loki asked rhetorically without pausing his writing. Really, Potter disregarding his warning and snooping around the Black ancestral house was a long time coming.

'There was nothing to do,' Potter said, having the decency to sound embarrassed, 'And I did ask Dobby to check for spells and traps. And I only took a peak.'

'What makes you say Sirius Black is not a Dark Wizard?' Loki asked instead. Reprimanding Potter would just make Loki a hypocrite.

'He has Gryffindor-' Potter cut himself off as the train slowly pulled to a stop in a middle of nowhere.

'We're here? Thank Merlin I'm starving.' Weasley exclaimed, already making his way for the door.

'Have you gone doolally, Weasley?' Loki did not even need to look to know Theodore had his face in his hand had gone. 'The train left barely an hour ago.'

Weasley retorted something back but Loki did not pay any attention. He was busy squinting to see through the frosting window. Several somethings were out there. Hollow malignant somethings.

Lights went out.

Confused chatter echoed up and down the length of the train.

One of the beings boarded the train.

'I'll go see the driver.'

Loki's hand shot out to grasp Potter.

'Stay.' He commanded, shiver wracking through his body.

Potter questioningly sat back down, staring at Loki and the shaking hand that was holding his elbow. Loki hastily withdrew and pulled his sleeve over it.

Pathetic, being frightened by mere presence of the unknown. But that magic stroke fear into his very existence.

They all sat very still and quiet. Foggy breath rose up with each suspended exhale.

The door slid slowly open. Loki only managed a glimpse at the cloaked figure before his vision was swallowed in darkness.

He was back in that endless void. No ups or down. Nothing.

Falling without falling.

So so _cold_. Unnatural cold seeped into his bones. He dared not breathe.

Profound darkness. So dark that he did not even know he had eyes anymore. He dared not blink.

He wanted to die…

A flash of white light appeared in his peripheral. He did not look. There was no point in humouring a hallucination.

Strangely, black bled into deep murky grey from where that white light flashed. He chanced a breath. The cold was not as cutting as it had been before.

Colours filtered back into his vision. Rocking movement beneath his feet tethered him to reality. The cold had made permanent residence under his skin though.

Loki almost cried in relief when a flaming fox came to life on his palm after conjuring up nothing for many tries.

The fluff-tailed fox trotted around in worry. It leapt off his palm, leaving behind a brilliant trail of fire and settled down near his neck, painstakingly chasing away the cold.

People were talking in the background. Loki's attention was on the bundle of warmth on his shoulder and keeping his hands from shaking too violently.

'-dementors of Azkaban.' Someone said.

So that's what they are. Loki had heard of dementor of course. Foulest creatures to exist. Soul-sucking fiends. Long exposure to their presence may drive one insane. Even Lucius shudder at mere mention of them. What are Azkaban jailers doing here in Hogwarts ground?

Someone insistently snapped fingers under his nose. The fiery fox bristled up, getting annoyed on his behalf. Loki glanced up with dead eyes.

The man might be in his early-thirty though his peppered hair and shabby clothes added another five or ten years. He looked at Loki with green concerned eyes and handed him a piece of silver-wrapped chocolate.

'Eat, it'll help,' he instructed, putting the chocolate on the table when Loki didn't move to take it. 'I'll talk with the conductor, excuse me.' He said, strolling out of the compartment.

Loki returned to his task. Helheim, why are his hands still shaking? The cold should have gone away by now.

The fox crackled at him in concern. Loki shook his head minutely. Forcing his hand still, he picked up the black quill. He was better off resting, but he would rather do something, _anything,_ to get his mind off that plane of darkness.

* * *

 

The fox brushed its tiny face against his cheek, crackling its farewell when he was relatively safe behind Hogwarts' oaken doors. The castle musty rock solid magic barricaded the hollow magic from dementors stationed as sentry guards around Hogwart's ground.

'I'll be heading for the dormitory.' Loki said, breaking away from the stream of students going towards the Great Hall. He could feel the others' concerned eyes on him, but right now he just wanted to curl up on a sofa in front of the fireplace, soaking in the comfortable heat.

It was supposed to be a short nap, he would wake up when the feast ended and go for his bed.

When he opened his eyes to the murky yellow green of the water beyond the window, he cursed himself badly. Flipping the blanket to the side, he slid off the bed, still in school robe and dashed for the bathroom.

There were only a few students left in the Great Hall when he arrived; most had already left for their first class. Theodore, however, was leisurely sipping juice while reading a copy of Daily Prophet. Knowing he had no way out of this, Loki dropped down next to him, reaching for a piece of toast and jam. He would rather get this over with with a full stomach rather than an empty one.

'So,' Theo started, casually folding the newspaper in quarter, 'How is your morning?' Theo asked pleasantly, as if this was just a normal, informal conversation between two friends in one usual morning. Not an interrogation.

'It is very good.' Loki said amiably, matching Theodore's tone. He would allow Theodore full control of this conversation. 'How is yours?' He asked, going along with Theo.

'It's nice. I had a good sleep last night.' And without letting Loki talk, Theodore continued, 'You had quite a deep one as well. When I came back last night, you were dozing on the sofa, sleeping the world away even when I levitated you to your bed.'

So it _was_ Theodore. 'You have my thanks.'

Ignoring his companion, Theodore carried on, 'I suppose it was reasonable, you must have exerted your magic keeping your little fox going. And that was one fierce fox,' Theodore smirked around his cup, 'He charred Potter's sleeve when the baboon shook your shoulder and put us under constant watch for the rest of the ride.' Loosing all his mirth, Theodore turned dead serious. 'That begs the question of why you felt the need to conjure up a cursed-fire fox right after that dementor left. Was it because of the cold?'

Loki said nothing, partly because him being afraid of the cold was not a huge leap of logic for Theodore to connect and partly because he wanted to see how Theo would do to pry his mouth open on this matter. No one had ever succeeded when Loki elected to keep the secret.

'It's not just the cold, is it? I have seen you plodding in the snow before.' Theodore shook his head slightly. 'No, there is something else. Something, a memory, fear that made you go rigid and shaken and scarcely responsive to anything. I took a peek at the paper you frantically wrote. Your usual cursive quillmanship were illegible lines on parchment.'

'It was nothing.' Loki denied, successfully repressing a shudder as he thought of that _void._

Theo propped his face with his left hand, looking away from Loki. 'Dementors do that to everyone. They call upon despair and fear, trapping people in an endless cycle of hopelessness. No one is unaffected. That dementor relived my Mother's death. The lights leaving her eyes, her slackened grip on my hand, Father violently pulling it away from me and kissing her cold forehead. They were so real.' Theodore cleared his throat. 'Potter even fainted, hearing a woman's scream in his head. It's not wrong fearing your fear.' Theo subtly pulled a sleeve over his shaking right hand.

'There truly is nothing.' Loki insisted stubbornly. The less people knew of his fear, the less chance his phobia would be used against him.

Theodore stared long and hard at him. Suddenly he stood up, slinging his bag over the shoulder. 'Alright,' he announced, 'We have Arithmancy in thirty seconds. Have to run for it then.' He moved away from the seat, leaving Loki behind, bewildered.

Hurriedly, he jogged to catch up with Theo. 'Are you not going to demand that I give my answer?' Because no one ever left him alone if he had not told them what they wished to hear. They sought retribution and revenge upon him.

'No,' Theodore answered easily, steps unfaltering. 'That's your secret. Whether you enclose it to me or not, it's your choice. Oh, and please tell the other three that you are fine. They didn't seem to believe me when I informed them that you were soundly sleeping in bed hugging your pillow. Rowdy disruptive refractory Gryffs with zero sense of house animosity bowling towards Slytherin table during _breakfast!_ '

Theodore did not notice Loki had fallen behind a step. If he did, he didn't say anything.

'Welcome to your first ever Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Malfoy. I hope you have reviewed your first and second year book because this class won't be a breeze.' Weasley mock bowed as Loki came through the door.

'I thank you for your concern, but rather worrying about me, shouldn't you make an attempt to raise your grade to a more acceptable level?' Loki snidely remarked, watching the redhead's face flame up.

'Stop messing with him, Ronald.' Granger thumped her book on the redhead's back before things had a chance to escalate. 'And you should attend Defence class more, Draco.' She side-eyed Loki, displeasure radiating from her glare.

'Attendance was not explicitly stated to be compulsory.' Loki shrugged carelessly before adding. 'I did attend the first Defence class each year. Those two teachers? They were clowns with nil expertise in Defence. Why should I waste valuable time listening to those baboons when I could spend those in the library, brushing up on dozens of defence and offense spells?'

'They are still our professors!' Granger objected, 'We should respect them by attending their class at the very least!'

'I respect those who deserve respect.' Loki countered succinctly.

'Aren't you all lively today?' A voice from behind made him jump a little. It was the same man that gave Loki a piece of chocolate on the train. His magic, oddly enough, radiated wolfish nature and feral. He gave Loki a warm half smile when Loki turned around to look at him. 'Follow me now, we are using a different classroom.' He said to the body of students milling about in the room and walked out of the door.

'That's Lupin, another new Defence teacher. At least this one seemed competent. He chased away the dementor on the train with a Patronus.' Theodore whispered to him as they walked along the deserted corridor.

Loki nodded, remembering the flash of white he saw in the plane of darkness. Lupin had Loki's gratitude; any longer in that void would have driven Loki to insanity.

Lupin led them to the staffroom, where Snape was occupying a low armchair. With a contemptuous sneer, his head of house brushed past the gaggle of students to leave the room. His eyes found Loki's, and for a tenth of a second, Loki could have sworn he saw concern in those dark eyes.

Lupin introduced them all to a boggart taking residence in a wardrobe in the corner.

'The thing that finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to take on a shape you find amusing. And the spell for that is 'Riddikulus'. Neville, you up first.' Lupin beckoned for Longbottom to come forward, who shook like a leaf in the autumn gale.

A successful 'Riddikulus' from Longbottom dressed boggart-Snape in long, laced-trim dress and vulture hat. Loki openly stared at it. Theodore's disbelieving 'this is branded into my memory' informed Loki he wasn't alone on his opinion.

There was a roar of laughter. Even Lupin was not unaffected.

'It's all about the power of your mind. Now I want you to take a moment to think of the things that scare you the most and how you might force it to look comical.' He instructed 'When you finish, form a line so we can get started.'

'How could you make your mother's dead body fun?' Theodore deadpanned.

'How could you make dark and cold fun?' Loki answered with his own question.

In mutual agreement, they moved to the very back of the line, leaving the hyped up students up front. Loki would rather not deal with his fear this way. There was nothing comical about his fear. The dark was absolute. The void was _absolute._ Even the cold was absolute. He accepted his fear and he would leave it at that.

'You are scared of the dark?' Theodore asked, leaning against the wall comfortably. A 'crack' sounded in the front made a mummy fell forward.

'Yes.' Loki said at last. Trusting Theodore was already a risk as it was. Loki hoped he had not made a mistake.

Theodore did not acknowledge further than nodding his head.

'You rarely talk about your mother.' Loki remarked. He knew Mrs. Nott passed away when Theo was young. The circumstances surrounded her demise were a mystery to everyone but the Notts themselves.

'She died and that is that. There is nothing else to say.' Theo exhaled, a faraway look entering his eyes.

Loki left Theodore to his memory and tuned in to the progressing class. A spider five times Loki's size appeared for Weasley. What reckless bravery. They were showcasing their weakness to the world, an open invitation for everyone who wants to exploit.

A crack and Potter confidently strode forward. And then Lupin was there, lunging to stand in front of Potter. The boggart changed into silver moon.

In the four seconds that the boggart-dementor was present, Loki's breath hitched.

The pressure vanished just as fast as it appeared but already his arms were trembling where they crossed over his chest.

Lupin locked the boggart back to the wardrobe and dismissed the class.

'Mr. Malfoy, a word before you leave.'

Shooing Theodore away, Loki carefully walked to the front of the class. Lupin waited till the last student disappeared from the door to talk.

'How are you feeling?' Lupin started off. It seemed this morning everyone was dead-set on his well being.

'Well enough, thank you sir.' Loki said, wanting to get this over and done with. 'Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me, sir?' If Lupin held him behind just to ask after Loki's health, he would be downright annoyed. He needed not being babied.

Lupin mulled on his question before deciding. 'No, that is all,' which clearly suggested 'that is definitely not all'. 'I'm glad you are well. You can go now, Mr. Malfoy.'

Loki was curious but he did not have the heart to weasel the information out of Lupin so he just took his leave, not before confirming his suspicion, though.

'Full moon is three weeks from now. Have you any plans to contain your wolf self?'

Lupin's startled and alarmed reaction told Loki what he suspected was true.

Their new Defence teacher had lycanthropy.

* * *

 

Being afflicted with lycanthropy didn't make Lupin abysmal at teaching, however. In fact this was the first Defence class Loki was genuinely interested in and made an effort to attend every lessons.

Ancient Runes bored Loki, who grew up with Runes, lived and breathed runic language so of course he could very well translate Runes into English. He was proficient could draw up a five-tiered Runic diagram in his sleep. The one and only thing that kept him in this class was numerical Runes and their fascinating effect if added correctly to the lexical diagrams he was used to.

Arithmancy was not what Loki had expected. Numbers, in his opinion, were constant and true. Yet, in this class, he was taught to use numbers to predict the _future_ , a protean variable that was neither right nor wrong.

When Halloween came and everyone from third-year and up departed for their Hogsmeade trip, Loki opted to stay behind. Dementor sentries stationed around the village were too close for Loki's comfort.

Potter brightened a little when Loki notified the kid he would stay in the castle, only to darken ten minutes later when Loki exasperatedly told him off for his lack of forethought. The Dursleys had never signed any Hogwarts related papers, therefore, there presented no possibilities for McGonagall to know whether a scribble Potter himself jotted down were authentic or not. And yet the simpleminded brought this problem up to McGonagall first thing and blew up his own chance of going to Hogsmeade.

The kid stormed off angrily, leaving Loki alone with his experimented numerical-constructed Runes diagram. Shrugging, he scrutinized every symbol again before activating the first circle. It lit up in indigo, twinkling harmlessly on the parchment. So far so good but he wouldn't put it past him for some mishap to occur.

* * *

 

'What in Merlin's pointed hat happened to your hair?' Theodore's mouth dropped open at the sight of Loki sitting in his bed, doing his utmost to ignore his dancing hair as he pushed the bed curtain aside

'A fwooper should have come after uruz, not an acromantula.' Loki said, irritably brushing sudden long bang aside. This was as close as Loki could get to admit his mistake.

'How could you mix up four and eight? They are like, one doubles the other.' Theodore said, hand dragging over his face in resignation.

Loki pinked in shame. He rarely made mistakes, much less making ones in the field he was most competent in.

'Nevermind, don't answer that.' Theodore approached his bed and hoisted his sack onto Loki's legs. 'I'm leaving my sack of candies with you. Take whatever you want. I am heading for dinner.' Theodore glanced up at his hair, which had changed yet again, and just stared at it. Finally he asked in incomprehension, 'Do you know that your hair is dong a wonderful imitation of a steaming bowl of soup? Or potage more like.' Theodore mumbled to himself, inspecting the 'wonder' Loki's hair had made itself into. 'No, not potage. Potage doesn't have seafood. Must be bisque then. Bisque, or shrimp chowder, yes, shrimp chowder, that is definitely a shrimp's tail.' Theodore tugged at a strand of hair that must have presented itself as shrimp in a bowl of soup. 'Hair shrimp chowder. Shrimp hair. Head of chowder-' Theodore listed a slew of name combination, each getting progressively more outrageous than the previous.

Loki tuned Theo's idiocy out, rummaging around the bag for some stringmints. Victoriously pulling out the package, he noticed Theo's listing speed had slowed down significantly.

'Bowlhair. Chowdery hair. Chowdery head. Chowderhead... Chowderhead?' Theodore ended with a question and dazedly stared at Loki's hair, which Loki could feel untangle and rearrange horizontally

Horror slammed into Loki with the force of a boulder rushing down from the mountaintop just as Theodore hugged the bedpost for support for laughing too hard.

'Chowderhead!' Theodore howled, uncaring of how loud he was being. 'Oh Merlin, your hair knows you better than you know yourself.' Theo wiped away tears, 'You are never living this down, Draco. I would make certain of it.' Theodore promised, still laughing madly.

Hoisting himself up with the use of the bedside table, Theodore drunkenly walked out, missing the doorknob a few times because of hiccupping laughter.

'Chowderhead,' Loki heard Theodore mumbled gleefully to himself as the kid walked down the stairs, 'Oh this is golden!'

Loki was tempted to smash the glass window and befriend the giant squid. At least it didn't understand human language to mock him. Loki threaded his hand through his hair, hoping for messy soft hair, only to encounter hardened spikes.

It had been hours since the accident. Loki prayed the effect would wear off soon.

* * *

  

As if changing style wasn't enough, his hair was now shifting colors.

Right now the French braid slung over his left shoulder showcased a puke-inducing hot pink.

Loki pulled his hood further down, walking faster. He shouldn't have risked venturing down the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea, but the amount of sweets he consumed upsetted his digestion so badly he felt queasy from the energy rush.

He drank the tea in record time, asking for a piece of burnt toast to nibble on when he was safe in the dorm. The house-elf wasn't happy when Loki asked him to deliberately burn food but he complied, though with much agitation. Thanking the house-elf profusely, he hightailed out of the kitchen and dashed for the dungeon before the feast finished, hands keeping the hood in place.

Loki nimbly leapt behind a suit of armor as a shadow appeared around the corner.

It was just Granger's cat, Crookshanks, and its new friend, a black shaggy dog. They were moving towards the great door that led outside.

Loki stood up, intended to finish the run in half a minute when a magic sense hit him. The cat was a magical animal, but the dog's magic was, by no means, animalistic. It was the same as that of wizards and witches.

An animagus.

Loki abandoned his run. Instead, he stalked the unusual pair. Curiosity would forever be his downfall.

The cat and dog ambled towards the Whomping Willow, Loki followed not too closely behind, but far enough to see the ginger tail of Crookshanks nimbly evading the battering branches, placed his paw on the trunk and disappeared down the base of the trunk. The dog followed soon after.

Loki crossed the distance in six large strides, careful not to make any sound and slid down quickly. He would not take his chance when the tree depetrified.

The dirt tunnel was too low to stand at full height so Loki had to walk bending double. Loki didn't light his wand, relying in his sense of magic for direction. The two animals were up ahead. And above.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever until it began to raise, dirt floor changed into moldy wood and he could finally stand.

Loki was under no illusion that he had not been discovered yet. Dogs, even an animagus, had heightened sense of smell and in this dusty room; Loki's scent was no different than a forest fire in the Forbidden Forrest. Still, he had to keep up appearance, so with deliberate pickiness, he chose the less moth-eaten wood panels that would least likely make any sound and made his way for the stairs.

The dog crouched behind the closed door. The moment Loki opened the door on the second landing, it would leap straight for his neck, tear out the artery and Loki would bleed to his death.

None of that would happen though, since Loki didn't plan on opening the door the usual way, turning the doorknob and poking his head in, no.

He kicked it down with enough force to break off the hinges. The dog yelped in surprise but lunged for him the moment it saw him.

With agile movements, Loki bent backwards and let it soar down the stairs. He quickly dashed inside for the little moonlight passed through wood-paneled windows. The dog growled madly, feet thumping on the stairs to get back to the room.

Loki was ready this time. As the dog lunged again, this time for his thigh, Loki pointed his wand at it and performed the animagus reversal spell. The dog's snout turned into the face of a gaunt man mid-leap. Loki sidestepped and the man, without any means to stop his momentum, crashed into the wall, shaking the whole foundation for a millisecond. The man shook his head like a dog shaking water out of its fur, and turned to look at Loki, feral and inhuman. Involuntarily taking a half-step back, Loki was ready to fire another spell.

That brief moment of weakness, however, changed the whole game. Out of nowhere, the cat came flying, its magic insignificant for Liki to pay much attention. Crookshanks scratched, spat and meowed ferociously at his face. The time he needed to dislodge the ruddy cat off his face was enough for the man to regain his bearings. Loki was pushed painfully down the floor, a knife to his throat and a knee on his ribs. The man's stale breath made Loki gag. Without a thought, Loki grounded out.

'Everte Statum!'

Black, for that was the exact same men Loki saw in the cover of Daily Prophet, was thrown backwards, cracking his head with a sickening crunch against the floor. Loki wasted no time conjuring up a length of rope and bound the man hands and legs with it.

'And you,' Loki turned towards the crouching cat, his hand outstretched. 'Stay down.' He erected a golden dome around it, adding a Silence charm to block out incessant hissing and meowing.

Mindful of his pounding head, he sat up, hand inching for a bump on the back of his head. His hair, thankfully, had shrank back to the original length and texture. He hissed in annoyance as he accidentally pushed a bit too hard on the bump.

The ginger cat was scratching frenziedly at the glowing dome at the edge of his vision but Loki's attention was fully on the unconscious bound man in front.

'Lumos Maxima.' Loki muttered, blinking rapidly at the sudden rush of light. The fiery fox appeared unbidden, crackling up at him in greetings. Loki spared it a glance before refocusing on Black.

Loki had to wonder. For twelve years, Black was imprisoned in Azkaban and frequented hourly by dementors, and yet the man did not seem like a living dead, soulless human. He still had his wit with him; wit in just the right amount to identify and attack an enemy but not enough to rationalize breaking into Hogwarts during school years where teachers could easily overpower him.

Was he so obsessed about Potter's death? If he broke out just to murder Potter without fearing any consequences, why had he not done so sooner? Why wait for Halloween, when Potter was amidst the whole body of students, to break into the school? Was Potter even truly Black's target?

Narcissa rarely talked about her family but when she did, not once did she mention the name Sirius Black. During his brief stay in the Black's Ancestral Home back in second year, he had had a morning studying the large family tree tapestry. There were several scorch marks upon it; Sirius Black was one of them. To be disowned and blasted off the family tree, family members must have gone against the family's ideology, in the case of Blacks, _Toujours Pur._

Always Pure.

Sirius Black must have associated himself with Muggles or Muggle-born wizards and witches for his whole life or at least for a period of time to incur such wrath from the family. Assumed that Sirius Black repented for his wrongdoings by joining force with Voldemort, shouldn't his name be restored on the family tree? Walburga Black passed away in 1985; Sirius Black's incarceration happened in 1981. The four-year gap provided enough time to put Sirius Black's name back in its place. Walburga Black had, obviously, not done so.

Was Black truly Voldemort's second-in-command as rumor put him to be?

A memory came to the front of his mind. When Loki first caught glimpse of the cat and dog, they were not coming from the direction of the Great Hall. They were coming from the empty Gryffindor Tower.

Loki exhaled resignedly. Nothing was adding up. The only sensible explanation he could get was from the subject of his thoughts. Pointing his wand at the bound man, Loki said, 'Rennervate', and watched Black weakly stir awake. He struggled at the rope binding his arms and legs together, blinking blearily at Loki.

'Cissy?' Black slurred at the sight of Loki.

'Wrong.' Loki disagreed and ventured a guess that Cissy was Narcissa's shortened name back in her childhood. 'I am her son.'

Black stared at him blankly before his brain clicked. 'Lucius Malfoy Junior.' He chuckled hoarsely, sarcasm dribbled off his very being. Black had his priority straight, he could be half-starved but not half-sardonic. 'Come to take me back to Azkaban?'

'Should I?' Loki asked rhetorically.

'Shouldn't you?' Black countered, 'Look at all the money and fame you could get.' He said, leaning against the wall, 'After all isn't that what you Malfoys care about?' Black eyed the kitchen knife lying between him and Loki.

Without Loki's consent, the little fox leapt off his shoulder and pounced on the knife. The wooden handle caught fire immediately, while the steel blade stayed for a second longer before succumbing to the intense heat.

'Fiendfyre, huh?' Black tore his gaze from the burning mess on the floor, 'Even manage to tame it. Lucy prepares you well for the life of a Death Eater.' He sneered at Loki.

Loki, for his part, did not react more than blinking; it was tiresome correcting people's assumption of him, once with Weasley was enough.

'You are not really after Potter, are you? Loki got straight to the point, he had little time to dawdle before curfew.

Black blinked at Loki, eyes wide and cautious.

'Am I correct?' Loki asked again impatiently. 'Yes or no?' Loki prompted when Black did not reply.

Black stayed silent for a long time, tempting Loki to just go back to the castle and forget this encounter.

'I can never bring myself to harm Harry.' Black finally answered, subdued and a glint of longing flashed in his eyes. That didn't actually answer Loki's question but it confirmed his suspicion either way.

'What's your objective?' Loki asked, squatting down to eye-level with Black. Black obediently stayed in Azkaban for eleven years, what had transpired in the twelfth year to make him break out?

'I have no need to tell that to the likes of _you.'_ The prison escapee snarled at Loki.

Loki blinked once, twice and then bursted out laughing. He could see Black startle at his laugh but Black's refusal was such a ridiculous notion that Loki could not help laughing.

'Hugin and Munin, this does crack me up.' Loki exclaimed to himself, hand holding his side. Smile still firmly in place, Loki addressed Black and watched in satisfaction, as the man's grey complexion got a bit more transparent. 'Would you rather I walked back up to the castle and told Dumbledore that you were here, bound and gagged, after I managed to get free when you abducted me? You think whose word Dumbledore is going to take for it? Yours, a fugitive, Muggle murderer, rumoured Voldemort right hand, or mine, a thirteen-year-old student with pristine record and seamless acting skill?' Loki wiped the smile off his face and leant in closer into Black's face. 'I heard it was Dumbledore that put you in Azkaban without trial. Do you fancy taking another chance with the old man? I do believe, right now, I am the only one that is granting you the benefit of the doubt. So either you take your chance with me and spill your little secret or I will just call a Dementor here and be done with it.' Loki finished off dramatically and let the daunting silence do the rest of the work.

That was an empty threat but Black did not know that. And judging by Black's fraught gasps, the man bought his threat and was reconsidering Loki's offer.

Grudgingly, Black recounted his side of story and Loki undesirably became the first listener.

* * *

 

'Don't believe me, do you?' Black called after him as Loki stood up wordlessly and walked to where the cat was observing the conversation the whole time. 'I was a fool for trusting a Malfoy.' He said emotionlessly, like he had expected this outcome.

'Your words were true.' Loki refuted, retracting the golden dome. The cat locked eyes with him, whiskers twitching. 'There were no signs to indicate that you were lying.' Crookshanks rubbed his head against his knee so Loki deemed it safe to scoop the cat in his arms. 'There are something I need to verify. Keep yourself out of troubles. If you are caught before Christmas ends, I cannot guarantee your freedom.'

With an armful of cat, Loki walked towards the stairs, leaving the cursing man in the dark with his hands and legs still bound.

Black could get out of Azkaban, an inescapable prison, he could find his way out of ropes and knots.

Crookshanks remained docile on his way back to the castle. Loki used the warmth from its furry body to warm up his cold hands.

Unsurprisingly, the great door was closed. Loki knocked on it a few times and stood back as a teacher, most likely, undid the various locks from the other side.

McGonagall came flying out, grabbed his arm and dragged him back inside roughly. Crookshanks yowled, displeased at the rough treatment.

'Fifty points from Slytherin,' she announced, chest heaving in anger and ...was that worry Loki saw her eyes? 'For wandering out of school in a lockdown. Now, do you want to tell me why you were outside, Mr. Malfoy?' She looked at him over her square spectacles.

'I saw Miss Granger's cat heading towards the Forbidden Forest. So I thought I could bring him back to her.' Loki lied through his teeth, holding up Crookshanks for emphasis.

'Why did capturing a cat take so much time?'

'Crookshanks proves to be an elusive creature. He outran and outmaneuvered me when I grabbed his middle too loosely.' Loki recounted the event from his imagination.

'Why did you not use your magic?'

'Hogwarts Rules regarding the use of magic states that 'magic that is not related to studies may only be cast with the permission and supervision of a faculty member, Prefect, or Head Boy/Girl.' I was by myself.' Loki recited

'The rule also allows you to perform magic to defend yourself, or to respond to danger.' McGonagall said.

'Yes,' Loki assented easily. 'But I hardly consider a half-Kneazle to be a threat to my life.'

McGonagall studied him searchingly. Loki made certain to catch her eyes every time her gaze roamed over his face.

'Go to the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey check over those scratches.' Mcgonagall finally said. 'Then get to the Great Hall, all the students are there. Sirius Black is reported to have infiltrated Hogwarts. No more wandering around. Is that clear?'

'Yes Professor.' Loki answered dutifully. McGonagall nodded curtly and walked past him and disappeared into a classroom.

Alone, he went to the Hospital Wing. Now that McGonagall pointed out, his face did feel kind of irritating with stinging pain. No doubt from the monster he was holding his arms.

'Do that again and I will tell my fire fox to set your fur ablaze.' Loki held the cat to his eyes and threatened it. Crookshanks gazed back at him with its squashed face, tail swishing back and forth uncaringly.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over him, and by the time she was done disinfecting the minuscular wounds, he had felt asleep leaning sideways, Crookshanks obediently curled in on his lap.

Loki woke up next day to a stiff neck and pins and needles on his thighs, which were strangely heavy and warm. He shook his leg a little. Whatever that was on his thighs jerked upwards instantly and Loki was rewarded with the feeling of something sharp pierce through his trousers. He glanced down and saw Crookshanks standing on four legs, anchoring himself with the use of his claws.

Last night really happened then.

Black's story was improbable, but Loki had detected no lies coming from the man. The promise was an absolute spur-of-the-moment thing. Everything related to Black's wrongful incarceration rubbed Loki the wrong way.

Loki intended to carry that out. But first-

'You go after the rat all the time because you sense deception from him, yes?' Loki asked Crookshanks. No answer was forthcoming but Loki did not expect one as he carried on. 'From now on, leave that thing to me. Don't go after him anymore. Do you understand?' He was talking to a cat. Loki had slightly gone round the bend.

Crookshanks gazed at him intently, as if judging how truthful he was being. Finally decided that Loki could have a better plan than him, the cat yawned widely and arched his back in a nice, joints-loosening stretch.

'Let's get you back to your owner.' Loki sighed, lifting the cat up. 'Time to meet the rat.'

* * *

 

Luckily for Loki, the three Gryffs were all there, having their breakfast and deep in conversation. They all jumped when he cleared his throat sharply.

'Crookshanks!' Granger stood up and eagerly took the cat from his arms, 'Where have you been? She stroked the cat's ears and beamed happily at Loki 'Thank you, Draco.'

'Get that thing away from Scabbier!' Weasley yelled and held a bump in his shirt tighter, scooting away as far as he could, which wasn't really far seeing the twin sat right next him. 'Why did you bring it back to her?' Weasley asked him miserably.

'I saw him wandering outside the infirmary. I believe you would appreciate if I brought him back to you.' Loki said to Granger, completely ignoring Weasley.

'You have been in the infirmary last night?' Potter piped in without letting Granger a chance to talk. 'What happened?'

'Nothing really.' Loki shrugged 'I merely found myself in the need of Madam Pomfrey's assistance regarding a magical mishap.'

Snicker sounded behind Loki's back and he did not need to look to know Theodore had joined the conversation.

'Don't you know you look _dashing_ in long hair?' Theodore asked innocently, 'Imagine all the style you could do with it. An updo, pony tail, curl, side-swept bangs,' Theodore tipped off his fingers accordingly, 'Or better yet, a _chowderhead_ ' He finished with a flourish, barely keeping his laughter in.

Loki's eyebrow twitched uncontrollably.

'Malfoy in long hair?' George said

'I would love to see that.' Fred continued

'State your price and I'll think about it' Theodore said

'Enough.' Loki grounded out 'We have classes to attend.' Then he stretched a hand to Weasley 'I have a spell to protect Scabber from Crookshanks.'

Weasley looked at his offered hand, to his face and then to Theodore before deciding.

'Uh, thanks but no thanks. I don't want Scabber to suddenly have tails for fur-'

'I am performing a spell, not drawing up a runic diagram.' He clarified but coudn't stop himself from excusing his mistake, 'I was unfamiliar with the application of numerical Runes and made an imprecise calculation. That will not happen again.' He guaranteed. There was no way he would allow himself to commit errors again.

Loki patiently held his still, waiting for Weasley's decision. At long last, Weasley put his hand inside his inner pocket and pulled out the squirming rat.

Scabber truly was an animagus, Peter Pettigrew in dusguise for possibly twelve years. No one ever looked twice at a battered rat and think it a murderer

Loki carefully closed his hand around the man-rat midsection, tight enough to show Pettigrew he could choke the frail body of a rodent easily. He whipped out his wand and waved it in a meaningless pattern while the real tracking spell had already been casted wandlessly and wordlessly.

He placed Scabber right under Crookshanks' nose, ignoring Weasley's protest and hoped that the cat kept his words. The ginger cat sniffed at the rat once then turning his whole body away from the delicious meal offered to him in a silver platter.

'This spell masks Scabber's scent from Crookshanks and every cat in the vicinity. It is still a prototype, so make sure to bring him to me again a week later.' Loki explained to a shell-shocked Weasley, pushing the rat back into his hand. 'I am heading to class now.' He said, walking away.

His head were swimming in thousands of different scenarios how Black's freedom could be achieved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait, it is this time of the year again when deadlines and projects just appear out of no where. I have to cut this chapter up into two parts, though the second part won't probably be as long as this one, but who knows, I never thought Remodel would be this behemoth of a word count when I started the first chapter. Thank you for reading. Please leave a review on your way out.


	4. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki accepted Lucius and Narcissa's love with welcome arms. Harry daydreamed of summers yet to come without the Dursleys. For once, everything turned out fine.

Despite all his efforts, Loki hadn't come up with any solid plans. He couldn't fully trust Black, not until he had confirmation from another party. Black spoke the truth that he believed in, not necessarily the true truth.

 

As agreed upon, Weasley came to him with the rat a week later for 'magical check-up'. Pettigrew looked as battered as ever, though seemingly a tad less shaky. Loki held the tip of his wand to the rat's neck for no apparent reason but to intimidate Pettigrew, while the Rune painted earlier on his palm sunk undetected into the rat's body, a rune with a changing nature that allowed him to alter the spell from a distant.

 

'All yours.' Loki handed Peter back to Weasley, trying hard not to imagine a middle-aged man sleeping on the bedside table of a thirteen-year-old child.

 

'Yeah,' Weasley carefully placed the rat in his chest pocket and Loki had to fight tooth and nail to keep his imagination from running amok. 'You coming for the match?' Weasley awkwardly asked.

 

Loki looked up at the enchanted ceiling. Ominous grey thundercloud released an enormous amount of water, splattering on the great hall's window. Lightning streaked past, blinding flash of white.

 

'In this weather? I'd rather not.'

 

'Of course you wouldn't.' Weasley slighted. 'You snakiness called off your match for this reason. Sissy Slytherins.'

 

'A tactical retreat is more than preferred to an audacious advance under this circumstances.’ Loki sighed. This rivalry was getting old fast. ‘Off you go then. I will not keep you any longer from your sportsmanship.’ He made a shooing motion with his hands and stood up himself, ambling past Weasley.

 

He had better things to do than squabbling meaninglessly.

* * *

Harry jerked awake, the woman's scream and Voldemort's shrill laughter replayed in his head. He blinked at the scarlet velvet canopy and just lay there, unmoving.

 

Madam Pomfrey had insisted on keeping him in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend but when he showed sign of restlessness, she had agreed to let him go a day sooner. So here he was, awake at five on a Sunday morning, staring at the crimson velvet canopy of his own bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, a stark contrast to the pristine mind numbing white of the Hospital Wing.

 

The dormitory was quiet, save for rhythmic breathing and snores from his dorm mates.

 

Unwelcome silence.

 

It added incentives for Harry's memory of the Quitditch match to resurface. It pained him that they lost, after all the trainings they had done and the trust that Wood and the team placed in him. The shattered remains of his Nimbus 2000 under the bed just made that loss more pronounced.

 

Was the Grim going to haunt him until he died? He had had no trust in Trelawney's prophetic skill but he probably had to rethink that. The first time he saw the Grim, he almost got ran over by the Knight Bus. The second time it happened, he fell fifty feet from the air after encountering a swarm of Dementors.

 

He felt disgusted thinking about them. And ashamed. No one fainted when they were near Dementors. Except for him. No one heard their mother and her killer. Except for him. Lupin had said Dementors had this effect on him because of his past but surely there had to be protection against them that Lupin didn't feel inclined to enclose. Harry had Defense on Monday, if Lupin came to class, he would definitely ask.

 

Mind made up, Harry slid off the bed soundlessly. There was no way he could fall back to sleep knowing that he could hear his mother's haunting scream again so he might as well had some homework done.

 

Hermione should be very proud of him.

 

He yawned widely and looked around the dormitory. When his eyes landed on Ron's bed, however, he saw two lumps occupying the single bed. Fading candlelights provided little light, but it was enough for him to tell the lumps were both very much human, one was covered in red and the other curling next to the pillow.

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and viciously rubbed them until he saw squiggly lines. When he opened them again, Scabbers were twitching in his sleep where the lump with no blanket had been.

 

Harry shook his head to clear the image. His sleep-addled mind could conjure up some strange things.

 

Grabbing his school bag, he noiselessly closed the door behind his back, the strange image completely fled his mind.

* * *

 

It…worked?

 

It worked?

 

The diagram was active for a full six seconds now and he didn't get blown up in the face or something more humiliating.

 

Then yes, it did work.

 

Loki let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and cut off the steady stream of magic pulsing through the tip of his wand. The soft blue glow receded away, leaving behind a symmetric, mesmerizing work of geometry and scribbles to those who knew no runes. He leant back against the plush armchair of the Common Room, careful not to sit on any empty inkbottles. Loki had been up all night, working out all the kinks and quadruple checking for errors and finally firing the diagram up early Sunday morning when he knew the Gryffindor boys were highly unlikely to be awake and lucid.

 

Runes was one of the most delicate factions of magic ever existed. Potions, while required precision and assiduity, were nowhere near as demanding as what Loki was attempting to do.

 

Contriving supplementary layers surrounding an already existing rune was a process Loki had never undertaken before. Runic diagram rarely contained a centre core, the innermost circle were always left empty for hand activation of the diagram. With the Fehu rune of control taking up said place, he had to imbedded magic into the rune for an alternative activation operation. Wonted procedure would invite explosion of ginormous proportion

 

Most diagrams Loki was familiar with performed flawlessly with just two or a maximum of four layers. The diagram he had been composing entailed six layers, not including one outer most layer working as a stabilising component. And out of the six, three were dedicated to spell translation. Runes diagrams were called runes diagrams because they contained nothing but runes, and wizarding spells were anything but runes. And it was not just a simple matter of translating and replacing Latin letters with rune characters; Loki had to break the spells down and then rearranging them into runic form, which lengthened the spells significantly.

 

This was merely a test to see if all his theories worked out the way he thought they did so Loki did not bother including a permanent transpose component, only a temporary switch one that stayed active for as long as the diagram was active so Pettigrew remained an unusually-long-lived pet rat of Weasley.

 

Loki studied the diagram one last time before gathering it and other different notes and early sketches into a neat pile on top of an advanced rune book he got from the restricted area thanks to Snape. The man had been skeptical at first but obliged nevertheless. Sometimes it paid to be a teacher's favorite. The book, however, was of little help so Loki gave it a use of an armrest.

 

Almost missing a step as he walked up to the dormitory with a tilting pile of parchment, ink and quill, he had to wonder why he went this far for someone he barely knew and would rather never come into contact with. Black reeked of annoyance and headache and yet, Loki was willing to deal with all that for nothing in return. Maybe he was getting soft but Loki could see a bit of himself in Black, someone who was misunderstood by the world, shunned for what he truly was, though Black looked to reconcile the misconception whereas he had resigned to that fact long ago.

 

For him, a runt and a lie-smith despised by both races, there was no changing people's feelings towards him.

 

Depositing everything into the trunk, Loki literally dropped onto the bed. He did not want to wake up anytime soon.

* * *

Schools passed peacefully and uneventfully.

 

A week before Christmas break, Narcissa sent him a box full of sweets with a separate pack of biscuits, the latter was no doubt made by her. An uncharacteristically one-sentence long note was attached to the box. _'Draco, do try to come home on time. Love, your mother.'_ it read.

 

So very suspicious and uncharacteristic.

 

Loki folded the note and put it in his chest pocket for later contemplating.

 

Thankful as he was for Narcissa's care and love, Loki had not had any taste for sugary sweet since Halloween.

 

He would hate to put these all to waste though.

 

Ginevra Weasley just crossed the threshold and was making her way to the Gryffindor table. Without reconsidering, Loki scooped up two handfuls of confectionaries and met her half way.

 

'Oh, Draco,' Ginevra cleared her throat, stepping back a little at his sudden approach, 'What can I help you with?' Her ears went pink at the tips.

 

'A lot, Miss Weasley,' Loki said, beckoning for her to raise her hands, into which he dropped all the candies in his hands, 'By enjoying these lovely and delicious sweeties.'

 

Ginevra hastily cupped her hands to stop the bonbons from falling off and looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

 

'What do you want me to do with these!?’ She said, half a question, half an exclamation.

 

‘Enjoy them.’ Loki said flippantly, steering her her towards the Gryffindor table, ‘Or share them with others. We all need a little sweetness for the holiday. I have to go now, class is starting soon. Enjoy your breakfast.’ He swiftly moved away and out of the Hall before she could put in any more protests.

 

Waiting outside the hallway for Babbling to arrive for Ancient Runes, Loki absently played with his bag’s pocket, where he had put the biscuit package.

 

This, he kept for himself.

* * *

 

The train would leave for London in an hour and a half time

 

Just enough to enjoy a cup of chocolate-scented tea.

 

Loki would gladly take his hat off to whoever invented this. He loved chocolate, especially hot chocolate when snow started falling from the sky, but he could do without the amount of sugar that came with every rich and foamy cup.

 

Tea that smelled like chocolate? Greatest discovery Loki had ever unearthed.

 

The Great Hall was adorned in as extravagant decorations as ever. Enchanted red fir trees wrapped in white decorations. Red and white seemed to be the colour scheme of this year, seeing that the four long wooden tables were covered with rich red tablecloth with white lacing selvedge.

 

Potter approached him from behind and Loki turned just enough to see the boy's clenched fists.

 

He didn't say anything, waiting for the boy to begin.

 

‘Can I go back to House of Black for Christmas?’ Potter asked.

 

‘What for?’ Loki continued sipping tea.

 

‘Can I?’ Potter disregarded his question completely, putting in a way that told Loki he would just go to Black House either way, with or without Loki’s consent.

 

'Is this about Black?' Loki queried, pretending not to notice Potter’s intake of breath. It seemed the kid had learned something interesting about Black during his unapproved Hogsmeade excursion the other day. 'No matter,’ Loki mentally shook his head. At least the kid started to stop taking things at face's value. ‘As long as I don't have to see your head mounted next to the shrunken house-elf heads, do as you please. Just one question though,' he finally turned around to face Potter, 'Did you not tell McGonagall that you are staying for the holiday?'

 

'Is that going to be a problem?' Potter scrunched up his nose, clearly not perceiving the severity of his decision.

 

'Well no,' Loki overemphasized his one-shoulder shrug. 'Since you are the Golden Boy, everyone will just fly into a frenzy looking high and low for you if you vanish from Hogwarts when you clearly stated before that you would remain at school. With Black still out in the open, it is not impossible to imagine the state of panic the wizarding world will be in. As the last person to interact with you before you disappear from school, I am automatically suspect number one. Weasley has filled you with anecdotes of Malfoy’s horrible doings, has he not?' Loki deliberately paused there for Potter to recall before continuing. 'It's not such a far-fetched thing that the son of a former Death Eater deliberately sends the Dark Lord's greatest foe to his early demise. So no matter how many connections my father has within the Ministry, public won't rest until either Black is caught or I am tried in court. Therefore, no, there will not be any problems for you.' He concluded without a smidgen of concern.

 

While Potter was absorbing his words, Loki returned to his tea. Blasted, it had gotten cold during his rant. Warming the tea up just a bit so he could down the rest without burning his tongue, he inclined his head towards the spot on his left as an invitation for Potter to sit.

 

'I can go and tell Professor McGonagall now.' Potter suggested after a while.

 

'What good would it do?' Loki sighed, defeated. _Will the kid ever learn?_ 'McGonagall’s alarm would immediately go off and she would alert others. You certainly would not want some higher-ups meddling with whatever you are trying to do.’ Loki rapped his knuckles against the boy's temple, hard. 'I have yet a contingency plan prepared for the scenario of my mother's childhood house being sequestrated by the Ministry. So cast that idea away.'

 

'Then what do you suggest I do?' Potter demanded frustrated, not even acknowledging the phantom pain his head must be suffering from.

 

'Go to the station.' Loki said simply.

 

'What?'

 

'Do as I say.' Loki put his cup down and purposefully strode towards McGonagall, who was transfiguring overhead banners into majestic white and red bows.

 

'Professor,' Loki began. 'My parents wish for me to have my friends over for Christmas. Would it be all right for Harry to come over with him already signed up to stay at Hogwarts? It is such a sudden announcement that I have just learnt of that myself.'

 

'Mr. Potter?' The professor was beyond surprise. 'What about Mr. Nott?' She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

Good lord, the woman was astute.

 

'Theodore's father has arranged beforehand an abroad holiday so he cannot join me at the Malfoy Manor,’ Loki smoothly replied. ‘My parents would be deeply upset on my behalf and take their anger out on Hogwarts if no one showed up.’ That was no lie he weaved. Lucius and Narcissa would certainly act out if they thought he was offended or hurt in some ways. ’The fact that I preferring to having few friends might not even register in their mind when they are dead set on blaming Hogwarts staff body for allowing discrimination to reach that high level.’

 

McGonagall completely forgot about the banner changing half way as she eyed him stonily ‘Are you threatening your teachers?’

 

‘I would not dare to do that, Professor, not in this lifetime or any other life times. I am simply concerned for the merriment of the holiday.’ Loki sighed dejectedly. ‘I could ask Hermione or Ronald, but I doubt my parents would be as welcoming towards them as they would be to Harry.’

 

The professor intently searched his eyes for indication of lies, only breaking the eye contact when she looked over his shoulders to call out to Potter.

 

‘Mr. Potter, if you could come here for a moment.’

 

Potter nervously walked over, glancing his ways for guidance but Loki resolutely kept his eyes on the professor.

 

‘Is it true that Mr. Malfoy has invited you to come over his house for the holiday?’ she questioned.

 

‘Uh, yes?’ That was definitely a question coming out from Potter. Loki internally tugged at his hair; the kid possessed a non-existent amount of acting skill.

 

’Don’t be so shy Harry.' He smiled cheerily in the boy's direction, 'My parents would do their best to make your stay as accommodating as ever.'

 

From the corner of his eyes, Loki could see McGonagall easing a little but the suspicion was still easily noticed.

 

'Alright, Mr. Potter, you can come with Mr. Malfoy and I will erase your name from the list.' She finally conceded. 'Now go, the train will leave soon.' She returned to her bow, not forgetting to add 'Merry Christmas, children.'

 

'A very merry Christmas to you too, professor McGonagall.' Loki courteously wished back, pulling on Potter's sleeve and taking off in a run.

 

He needed to leave before McGonagall changed her mind.

 

'I thought-you say not-to come directly-to professor McGonagall?' Potter panted out in broken sentence as they sprinted towards the scarlet train.

 

'That was only meant for-' Loki slipped on a melting puddle of snow, '-you.'

 

They swung onto the train and just stayed leaning against the wall, getting air back into the lungs.

 

'Remind me to reinforce your ring. Wouldn't want anyone tracking you.' Loki said after a minute of steadying his breath. The wards around Malfoy Manor and House of Black was strong enough to conceal an underage wizard performing magic, certainly they would shield Potter’s presence against prying eyes.

 

Loki was paranoid.

 

When it was time to part way at King's Cross, he made sure that Potter remembered to send him a message about whatever information he found before blending into the crowd, searching for Narcissa and Lucius's familiar magic.

* * *

 

'Mother, this blindfold is a completely and utterly insensible choice of complimentary garment.' Loki tugged at the band around his eyes. He sounded a lot like a whining child but he could not care less.

 

'Now now, Draco, be patient.' Narcissa gently wrapped her hand around his, the other loosening the blindfold a little. 'Endure just a bit longer, until we reach the Main Hall. Mind your steps, we are walking up the stairs now.'

 

'Listen to your mother.' Lucius advised cooly somewhere from behind.

 

Loki harrumphed, not really angry, just letting his displeasure known.

 

Lucius usually Apparated them straight into the Manor, but today he had deposited them behind the iron gate. Before Loki could even form a question, Naricssa had conjured up a silken black cloth to cover his eyes and steered him forwards.

 

He had thought about offering a token of protest but decided against it. After all, he could not deny the warmth that wrapped around his heart and a thread of childlike curiosity and excitement at the prospect of surprise.

 

The air warmed up considerably as the oaken doors closed behind his back, a soothing scent of apple and cinnamon and fresh pine wafted through the air. Cold stone floor gave way to the warm wood and Loki blindly brushed off snow from his coat.

 

Narcissa _finally_ removed the blindfold and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 

'Welcome home, my little dragon.'

 

The rush of light, warm golden light momentarily blinded him, Loki had to blink several times to clear away the tears before he could focus on something.

 

A magnificent fir tree occupied the middle of the room obscured his immediate line of sight. Bedecked in luminescent silver glass baubles and glowing gold ribbons, it was a wondrous sight to gaze upon. Snow, _real_ snow, drifted lazily down from the ceiling, bewitched to swathe the branches in a blanket of pearly white but disappear as soon as it fell to the ground. Loki ventured closer, feeling flakes of snow melting upon touching his face. He lifted a floating silver orb from its place, not even bothering to hide a startled laugh as the orb morphed into a hand-sized horse prancing around on his palm.

 

'Every bauble is enchanted to take on different shapes whenever they are touched.' Narcissa explained, placing her index finger on an orb above Loki's head. 'Look, mine is a crown.' She smiled down at him, full of love and adoration. 'Fitting for you.'

Loki openly gazed at her, searching for deception and trickery. Her smile was so sincere it pained him to even consider this was nothing but an act.

 

No, this was true. It had to. Summer had proven Narcissa's love for him, even Lucius', though the man was inept in showing emotions in his own household.

 

It had to be true.

 

'Thank you, Mother.' He finally replied, putting the horse back into its place on the tree. It neighed petulantly for a second more before shaping back into an orb. _Two down and,_ he estimated, _307 more to go._ He _would_ see all the baubles secondary forms, even if it meant he had to lose a night sleep.

 

'Why don't you go rest up? Dinner should be ready in a few hours.’ She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, so smooth upon look but upon touch, the merciless walk of life made its presence known.

‘Yes, Mother.’ Quick as lightning, Loki planted an air kiss on her cheek and bolted for the stairs, not even looking back. He did not give himself time to think, if he had, he would have talked himself out of it.

 

He grabbed the garland-bedecked handrail out of habit. Hundreds of firefly lights suddenly became airborne, floating just a finger length above the leafy garland for seconds before drifting back down.

 

Ethereal yet ephemeral beauty.

* * *

Loki played with the wind chime shape shifting bauble, jiggling and generally annoying Lucius so much that the man had to vacate to the library for some much-needed silence after watching him undertaking his bauble quest. So far he had seen more or less all the baubles on the bottom half of the tree. There was one that turned into a suit and one a dress, when Loki put them close to each other; they performed one of the most flawless dances he had ever seen.

 

Putting the wind chime bauble into his pocket, Loki summoned his broom. The top half was going to require some manoeuvring.

 

He was circling around, looking for a good place to start touching the baubles when he sensed Narcissa coming.

 

She followed his flight emotionlessly before stating, neither angry nor upset.

 

'Flying inside the manor is forbidden.'

 

'Yes Mother.' He agreed and continued zooming around.

 

'Are you disobeying me?' She asked without any feelings.

 

'No Mother.' He decided on a bauble and touched it. A grandfather clock with a cursive line _'Found my mom's letter'_ written on it. Loki discreetly traced _'when?'_ with his finger and watched as it appeared underneath the first line. The reply came immediately _'August 1981.'_ 'How was Uncle Sirius Black like, Mother?' Loki asked, wiping the conversation clean off the surface of the bauble.

 

'You have no Uncle with that name, Draco.' Narcissa's eyes turned hard.

 

'I am sorry, my mind must have abandoned me so early in the morning.' He swiftly apologized.

 

'Mine as well. I must be somnolent.' She concluded and made her way for the ballroom, leaving Loki alone, baffled.

 

It was almost six o'clock in the morning, not early per se. Lucius woke up an hour earlier and was completely lucid.

 

Narcissa, on the other hand...

 

No matter, the fact that he had obtained the information he needed was not to brush aside, even though the source of information was a bit drowsy and not herself.

 

Narcissa did not acknowledged Sirius Black's existence.

 

Lily Potter trusted Sirius Black even before her death mere two months.

 

Never doubt a mother's intuition.  

 

He needed to comprise a letter, but not right now. He still had plenty of baubles to discover.

* * *

 

On the morning of Christmas, Loki woke up to a mounting pile of presents at the foot of his bed, the majority of which must have come from Lucius and Narcissa.

 

He dug out the four from his friends.

 

A book from Granger. A pot of vanishing ink from Theo. Weasley got him a pack of Exploding Snaps and Potter sent him a Muggle Rubik’s Cube.

 

However the kid noticed his interest in this Muggle toy when they visited a toy store in second year?

 

He fingered the cube for a moment, turning it this way and that before stowing them all away in a secret cabinet that stored all the gifts his friends had ever sent him.

 

He was about to head downstairs when something in the corner of his eyes caught his attention.

 

Two long thin boxes sat innocuously on his bedside table, something he had overlooked from the eagerness for his friends' presents.

 

Loki took the silver white one in his hand. It was most certainly made of silver yet soft as feather to touch. It weighed nothing. Not even the box weighted anything. Intrigued, he turned the lock and was greeted with two most beautiful quills he had ever seen, not even the white peacock quills could hold any candles to these two. One was jet-black, a silky and sable blackness that it sucked all the light shining on it. The other was changing its colour even as he watched. Pink, orange, lime-green, and yellow. He picked both of them up and promptly let the black one slip from his finger as it shrunk to the size of his palm. He fisted his hand around it and felt the quill enlarging until he was holding a broomstick-long quill, still as black as midnight. One hand moving the black quill in the air, the other Loki squeezed the colourful one to see if something happened. The quill did not burst into fire or turn into liquid or pierce his hand, so the magic must be in the ever-changing colour. The back quill had gone back to a manageable size. By now Loki had no doubt that the black quill was from an Occamy, an aggressive, rare and choranaptyxic bird of the Far East. He should have guessed it sooner since no silver was as soft as the material used for the box, which, he was sure now, came from an egg of an Occamy. The other feather was of a Fwooper, Loki remembered seeing it in display at a fancy quill shop once.

 

Lucius must have spent a fortune acquiring these two quills.

 

Putting the quills back in respective place, Loki studied the black box. It was significantly heavier and longer than the silver one, as if there was some sort of metal inside. He flipped the lid open and his mind stuttered to a halt.

 

In a daze, Loki lifted the carved piece of metal, feeling its familiar weight in his palm. It had been centuries since he held this blade, a treasured gift from Frigga lost forever among Yggdrasil’s branches.

 

He sprinted towards the door, taking the blade, scabbard and all, with him.

 

He needed, no, _wanted_ , to see Narcissa.

* * *

 

They were facing off in a game of chess, too engrossed to notice his presence.

 

He did not make his presence known either, standing in the doorway and observing.

 

A perfect scene of contentment, of a family.

 

'Rook to E6.'

 

'Bishop to E6. Do try to make it more challenging, husband dear.'

 

'Knight to H4. Need not worry, dearest wife, this is merely a stretch before the true battle.'

 

'I find myself hardly convinced. Rook to -' She glanced up from the board and notice him. 'Draco, right on time for breakfast. Your father should admit defeat shortly oh-'

 

Loki flung himself at her and wrapped his arms around her neck, hiding his face on her shoulder.

 

'Merry Christmas, Draco.' She rubbed comforting circle on his back. 'I see you have opened your gift. Is it to your liking?' No answer was forthcoming from Loki, so she continued. 'I have it fashioned after your sketch. Such a refreshing drawing in a stack of Rune sketches, don't you think? Though I have to apologize for my intrusion.' She asked at his muffled answer. 'Am I forgiven?'

 

Loki nodded against her shoulder.

 

'How did you know the blade is black?' He turned his head slightly to whisper into her ear.

 

'I know my child.' She threaded her fingers in his hair, placing her lips on his cheek. 'You would never pass up a chance to have it smithed with black steel.'

 

A tear trickled down his chin. He surreptitiously wiped it with his sleeve but it did not go unnoticed by the nonchalant but attentive eyes of Lucius nor Narcissa's acuity.

 

Four simple words.

 

_‘I know my child’_

He knew now he truly had a family.

 

Narcissa lightly tapped his shoulder, prompting him to look at her. ’I am to assume that my gift is superior to that of Lucius, correct?’ She gave a passing complacent smile to Lucius, whom expertly turned a blind eye. ‘Why don’t you give him a consolation thank-you, Draco?’

 

Loki stifled a laugh. ‘Of course Mother.’ Then he turned towards Lucius, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ‘Those are very lovely quills, Father. I express my deepest gratitude for your thoughtfulness and care.’ He inclined his head as the man stood up and stood before him.

 

‘You certainly have the gift for the gab.’ Lucius patted his head, murmuring fondly. ’Shall we test out your mother’s dagger against my sword? After having breakfast, of course.’ He added quickly at Narcissa’s passive aggressive glare.

 

Loki laughed, happy and full of hope.

 

_He had a family._

* * *

 

Arthur Weasley stomped his feet outside the door, shaking off every last bit of snow that had gotten stuck on his shoes before entering. Molly would murder him if she saw just a drop of snow on the floor. He scourgified his patched wollen overcoat just to be sure he had not brought any snow into the Burrow.

 

The train should be leaving now, taking Percy and Ginny back to the Hogwarts.

 

It had been a quiet Christmas in the Burrow this year. Charlie and Bill were too caught up in work to come home. Of the five at Hogwarts, only Percy and Ginny came home. Ronald, Fred and George stayed, possibly to give Harry some company. Merlin knew that kid needed friends.

 

Though with only two out of seven home, it was by no means a low-spirited Christmas. Percy passionately talked about applying for a position in the Ministry, asking him for advice.

 

Percy would make a brilliant Ministry employee.

 

Arthur hung his coat and picked up a newspaper from the table, intending to use the morning all to himself when an envelope slipped through the crack in the window and flew into his hand.

 

No wax seal, no name, no address, nothing.

 

Nothing tried to bite him or put rash on his hand so he deduced it was not some sort of prank from the twins and deemed it safe to open.

 

The letter inside was short and written in such fancy cursive it took him a minute to get used to.

 

He gave it an once-over.

 

The letter left his hand and fluttered to the floor.

 

'I can't believe that Xenophilus! Met him in the marketplace and do you know what he bought? A ruddy pack of bottle caps! Last week he purchased a pouch of broken glass. Oh poor his little child. She is the same age as our Ginny you know.' Molly bustled about in the kitchen, levitating her grocery bags to the table. 'Arthur, where did you take my spatula to again? Don't tell me it is being fitted in that Muggle contraption of yours. Arthur, are you listening to me?' She called out, walking towards her husband. 'Arthur?' She questioned, a touch worried. Arthur was not moving at all, save for the short breaths.

 

Suddenly his hands came up and grabbed her shoulders tightly. 'Molly, tell Ron to take Petti-, Scabber and come home immediately. I need to go to the Ministry now.' He said urgently and- fearfully, already putting on his coat.

 

'Wha-? Why should Ron come back? He is safe in Hogwarts! Arthur, what is going on?' She demanded hotly.

 

'Just do as I said!' Arthur shouted. He had never raised his voice at her, not even in an argument. He visibly reigned in his agitation, a pleading look entered his eyes. 'I cannot explain right now, Molly, but please, _please_ , do as I said. It is for Ron's safety. I promise I will explain everything when I get back.' Then he was out of the door, without even a goodbye.

 

Alone and shaken, Molly sat down on the floor, hand reaching for the opened letter that must have led Arthur into this flustered state. She read and read and read. Fear overtook her mind and body.

 

_Weasley,_

_Your family, especially your son Ronald Weasley, is in grave danger._

_Twelve years ago, Sirius Black blew up the street, instantly killing thirteen Muggles and his friend, Peter Pettigrew. Subsequently, he was incarcerated without trial to Azkaban._

_The only remaining body part of Pettigrew law enforcers found was his index finger._

_Black was believed to have told the Dark Lord of the Potters' Fidelius house as he was their Secret Keeper. However, few had known that Potters had switched their Secret Keeper in secret._

_It was Peter Pettigrew that told the Dark Lord of the Potters' whereabouts._

_It was Pettigrew that blew the street up, killing the Muggles and blaming Black for everything. Pettigrew cut off his own finger in order to make his escape to the sewer as a rat Animagus._

_Twelve years ago, Percival Weasley had his first pet, a rat that lost one finger no one would buy at the store._

_Now the rat is in Ronald Weasley's possession and in the same room with the Dark Lord's target, Harry Potter._

_If you value your child's life, take action at once lest terrible fate await him._

* * *

 

’No way.’

 

‘What?’

 

’They say Sirius Black is innocent!’

 

‘A pile of Hippogriff dung! And you believe that, Ernie?’

 

‘Well-‘

 

‘It’s true, Zach. Peter Pettigrew faked his own death twelve years ago and avoided suspicion by turning into a rat. He is an unregistered Animagus, you see. Good morning to you two.’

 

‘Morning Susan. Where did you hear that? It’s not in the news.’

 

‘My aunt is heading Peter Pettigrews’s case. She said Sirius Black was not tried in court twelve years ago. My aunt was furious with that so she demanded this case falls into her jurisdiction - omph. Sorry.’ Susan apologised hurriedly  and walked past Loki, already resuming her story to the two Hufflepuff boys.

 

Loki pulled out his Occamy quill form his pocket and sketched a cancelling layer on top of the diagram.

 

Pettigrew tried to pull a stunt like twelve years ago, blaming his death on Crookshank during Christmas. But Loki had his eyes on him every breath he took so the rat could not evade for long. Loki whisked the rat away from his bough in a tree straight to Bones’ office.

 

Loki channelled his magic into the rune, erasing every trace of magic he had put on Pettigrew.

 

His job here was done.

 

At a leisure pace, he made his way back to the Great Hall, where his friend was pouring over Black’s newfound innocence.

 

‘How are you feeling about Black?’ He asked Potter as he sat down.

 

‘Glad, mostly. I have a godfather.’ Potter’s smile was goofy and contagious. ‘I won’t have to return to the Dursleys anymore.’

 

‘- I gave a grown-man a bath. I let him sleep next to me. I put him in my chest pocket. I tickled his belly-‘ Weasley muttered on, oblivious to Theo’s unrelenting snicker and Granger’s sympathizing shoulder rub.

 

‘They still have persuade Black to come out of hiding in order to proceed with the trial.’ Loki pointed out.

 

‘I know, but it won’t be long.’

 

Loki said nothing, leaving Potter to his daydream.

 

For once, things turned out fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday present to you all! Thank you so much for waiting, it has been a deadline-filled month for me. Come December I will have more free time on my hands ;). Please leave a comment on your way out.


	5. Family or Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spark of an end.

‘What are you here for? Money? Gratitude?’ Black broke the suspenseful silence, taking a swig out of his bottle of Firewhisky. His voice, though rough and gravel as if he had gone without talking for a month, still echoed in the empty kitchen of the Black House, easily carrying all the way to the other end of the table where Loki was occupying. The man looked haggard with bags under his eyes, greasy matted hair and unshaven beard. Not haggard enough to stop him from glaring holes at Loki. The effect was swept away though, what with the way Black presented himself. A tattered brown sleeping robe to Loki's black with green lining silken coat; faded pinstriped pyjama to smart shirt and dress pants. Substandard proprietary for welcoming guest to one's house.

 

Turning back to the problem at hand, Loki stopped fiddling with his glass, scoffing deliberately noisily. Money he had aplenty courtesy of Lucius and Narcissa. Gratitude forced through gritted teeth? He would rather do without it. He came here for only one simple thing. ‘Just your word that my involvement is left out will suffice. Remove my name from your testament. Pretend that I never found you in the Shrieking Shack on that Halloween evening.'

 

‘Why?’ Black squinted, or Loki _thinks_ he squinted. ‘Afraid Lucy dear will find out about your little mischief and disown you?’

 

‘Part of it.’ Loki offered a shrug. Lucius would probably grant him a cold shoulder for a month or two at most, maybe Narcissa would join in but Loki highly doubted it. The lady would definitely grace him with disapproving glance every now and then though, the kind of glance that had enough power to make him squirm in his seat. His life back in the Manor was going so smoothly that he could not risk anything that would put a dent into it.

 

Black narrowed his eyes at him, or that was what Loki thinks he did. Blast that human to the fiery pit of Hel and back. Must he sit at the other end of the table? Loki's eyesight, much to his chagrin, had deteriorated after much abuse. So being used to Asgardian perfect eyesight, he overlooked the flimsy one of a human. Wizardry had spells to deal with that but Loki, prideful as he was, would never seek help for such little trivia. Once he had this over and done with, he would pay the library in Diagon Alley a visit for optical condition books.

 

'If I say no?' The man asked challengingly.

 

‘This rendezvous is for proprietary sake only, Black.’ Loki divulged, twirling the content in his glass absently. Firewhisky as well. Does the man live on this thing? ‘I can erase memory or forge new one without your consent. But memory is a fickle thing and I don’t take unneeded risks.’ He took a whiff of the drink. Spirituous as ever, though nowhere near Asgard mead. ‘Besides, do you not think this is a right thing to do? After all, I did have a hand in giving you back your freedom.’ He rested his cheek onto the left palm and arranged his face into a bored smile. 'An eye for an eye, so the idiom goes. It is time you returned the favour.’

 

Black stood up in rage, chair scraping back with a loud thump in the empty kitchen. ‘Favour? FAVOUR?’ Black roared, slamming his hands down on top the table, face red, with alcohol or anger, Loki had no idea. Perhaps a bit of both. ’You’ve done me no favour! That rat should be dead! It should be killed by my hands. Thirteen years and you ruined it all!’ Black pointed a bony finger at his face. ‘You sent that bastard to the Ministry, the same Ministry that put me in Azkaban without a trial. Whatever the fuck have those scumbags at the Ministry done right?’ Black released a breathless, half-crazed laugh. ‘They had Peter and lost him in under a day! An eye for an eye?' He barked. 'Bollocks! That rat killed James and Lily. It has to die as well!’

 

Loki covered up a yawn, not even trying to be discreet. That was an impressive display of wrath. However, to Loki, who had suffered centuries of Thor’s fatuous temper tantrums, it was significantly inferior, in both volume and length. It did pave way for talking sense to Black though. ‘First,’ he raised a finger. 'It seems to me you broke out of Azkaban just for vengeance. Had Harry Potter ever crossed your mind when you came to Hogwarts to hunt for Pettigrew? Let me finish.’ He raised a hand to halt Black’s objection. ’Assume you had managed to find Pettigrew on your own and killed him, what then? You would still be wanted as a fugitive. Legally adoption of Potter would be a dream far out of reach.’ Loki exaggerated his sigh. ’Think of the kid for a moment. Alone in this world with no relatives to speak of, Dursleys notwithstanding. Fathom how thrilled he was when he knew you were his godfather after thirteen years of being alone? You have enough brain cells to process my words, no? Then heed my advice. Play nice at the Ministry hearing the day after tomorrow and your house arrest will be over. Potter’s adoption should be easy enough after that.’ He concluded his first point, raising another finger. ‘Second, letting on to jurists about me just for your immature need to spite me won’t speed up your case.’ That was all he had to say for the second part. It was enough to persuade Black though.

 

Black did not say anything for a full minute, glaring contemptuously at him. He finally sat back down, eyes glued on the purple band on his wrist with palpable hatred, a device from the Ministry to monitor his whereabouts.

 

‘What if they use Legilimency?’ He grumbled around his teeth.

 

Black made the manipulation game easy beyond belief.

 

‘Not really. Madam Bones is just; she will not resort to Legilimency without your consent. You, at the very least, have knowledge and skill for Occlumency, Black family and all.’ Loki shrugged his coat on, fixing the collar. His talk had reached the desiring end. ‘Just so you know,’ he stopped right in front of the wooden door. ‘I placed a block on that particular memory on the day I happened on you in the Shrieking Shack. No one can access it except for me. Every attempt to speak of it on your part will be met with a silencing charm. Don’t bother looking for a counter charm, only I can remove it. Now then, good day to you, Mr. Black.’ He exited the kitchen and closed the door in one swift move, Black’s puzzling, changing to raging, face the last thing he saw. Kreacher saw him off at the main entrance, a longing look upon his sagging face, no doubt commanded not to talk to him.

 

The rain was still pouring outside, pitter-pattering on the pavement.

 

‘Dobby.’ He called out to the cooling air in front of him.

 

Dobby appeared with a quiet ‘pop’, bowing so low his ears swept the wet ground.

 

‘Little Master call for Dobby?’

 

‘Empty Black’s stash of alcoholic beverages for me, will you?' Loki said the first thing that popped into his mind.

 

'Yes, yes, Little Master sir.' Dobby agreed instantly, doing that jerky little motion Loki thought might be a salute.

 

Loki hummed, remembering what else he needed to ask Dobby. 'Another thing. Stock his kitchen cabinets with fresh food and vegetables. Some package of tea, too.' In case he had to pay the man another visit. 'If he can't seem to find his way around his own home kitchen cabinets, prepare the food and place it on the table. And if he can't seem to find his will to consume them, do whatever it takes to make him eat without letting him know of your presence. Keep him from physically abusing Kreacher as well.' Loki was asking a lot. Dobby was a free elf so he had no reasons to obey Loki anymore. He felt moderately bad for this but seeing the overjoyed look Dobby sent his way, he rethought the idea of apologising, instead kneeling down and readjusting his handkerchief kept pristine and dry around the elf's neck.

 

'Thank you Dobby, you are a great help to me.' He smiled warmly and Dobby nearly fainted on the spot.

 

'L-Little M-Master th-th-thank Dobby. Dobby are very much happy!' The elf squeaked, doing a happy little flap with his pointy ears, eyes brimming with tears of joy and small hand clutching tightly around the handkerchief.

 

Loki spared him one last glance before transfiguring an umbrella. 'Get going then.' He ordered gently. 'I will call for you whenever I need your help.'

 

Dobby did faint this time but he recovered in exactly two seconds to give Loki a parting bow before disappearing.

 

Loki stood there for a moment longer, contemplating what he just did in the last two minutes.

 

Why in Helheim pit is he playing carer for Black?

 

He shook out the umbrella and stepped into the rain. Now to Diagon Alley library for some much appreciated time alone.

* * *

Black’s hearing made headline the following morning, along with the news of him being legal protector of Potter.

 

The wizarding world was divided. A faction rejected the idea of the Boy Who Lived being cared for by a prisoner even though he was wrongly convicted. Others rejoiced of having Potter right in the midst of wizarding community for them to worship. The minority, like Loki and the Malfoys, watched from the sideline with raised eyebrows at the sheeple.

 

Not once was there a mention that Pettigrew had escaped the Ministry's custody from right under their nose or the fact that Dumbledore was openly opposed to Black's adoption of Potter

 

Loki did not know the latter either, not until Lucius made a passing comment about it during afternoon tea, looking pleasantly pleased.

 

Dumbledore's opposition was most likely related to the dome of magic Loki had sensed when he came to Dursleys' home back in second year. It was an odd form of magic, but its intention was clear. Protect Harry Potter.

 

Black won in the end, as the Daily Prophet reported in its special edition at the end of July.

 

Talk about a perfect birthday present.

 

Potter must be ecstatic.

 

Not that he knew for sure, since he was not Potter’s usual correspondent. He was not close enough to the boy for him to tell news about his life.

 

So it was a surprise when he found the duvet cover dipping into a messy _‘Hi, Draco’_ that night.

 

Potter told him pretty much everything, ranging from ‘Remus is a werewolf and he moves in’, ‘my father, Sirius, Remus and Pettigrew are the marauders!’, ‘Sirius is the Grim!’ to ‘I like living here in the Black Manor but Sirius is not very happy’.

 

Loki had to cut the boy off before he went on a tangent about all the antiques Lupin and Black were up to. It would take all night if he did not put a lid on Potter’s excitement.

 

 _'Tell me more in person later Potter, your quillmanship is getting more and more atrocious.’_ Loki traced the word on a parchment he had dragged over to his lap. He should have had the foresight to infuse a standard writing font for instances like this. ‘ _When will you be able to go to Diagon Alley alone?’ _He underlined the last word.

 

 _‘I’m not sure’._ The kid made an effort to slow down his writing. Commendable. _‘Sirius probably won’t let me go alone.’_

 

That was to be expected.

 

 _‘Are you going to the Quitditch World Cup?’_ Potter continued. _‘Sirius said we would go there.'_

 

Incidentally, Lucius mentioned all three of the Malfoys were invited by Fudge as honorary guests to the game mere hours ago. Well, it should be easy for Potter to sneak away from Black for half an hour and take a stroll out in the field with him.

_‘Yes. I suppose I will see you there then.'_ Loki agreed. _'Now shoo, I do not wish to fraternise with you any longer in this fine evening.'_ He sketched a fehu rune of fire right underneath the sentence. If he was correct, the rune would activate upon appearing on Potter's side, burning his parchment to crisp, thanks to the rune-imbedded black ring the kid must place somewhere on the surface for this whole conversation to be possible.

 

Potter would be in for a scare.

* * *

 

Loki sidestepped a tent pole some daft excuses of a wizard managed to grow two meters in height in the middle of the grassy path, stopping short of setting his foot down into a dying fire pit in the search for Potter.

 

It was no use.

 

There were too many people, too clustered, a hundred times as many as the number of students at Hogwarts. Pinpointing Potter while at Hogwarts was matter of paying close attention to tune into the boy’s peculiar magic. Out here in this vast field with 100,000 wizards and witches, however, Loki could not even tell the magic of someone walking side by side with him apart. It was the same as telling a drop of water apart from the ocean, nigh impossible

 

So there was a condition to how his sense functioned. In an area with high density of wizards and witches, his sense was rendered useless. The uselessness was so profound he had to suffer a severe case of migraine for it. For now, he should assume that crowd the same size as Hogwarts’s body was the maximum limit until proven otherwise. Loki harrumphed curtly and closed off his sense. With luck, he might find the kid. If not, then they could always talk to each other at Hogwarts, albeit with more caution.

 

With his goal unachieved, Loki took his time to double back to Malfoys’ designated area, so he turned away from the main path, taking a detour.

 

It was a lovely day with his favourite kind of weather, crispy but not yet cold, mist hovered a fraction off the ground. Pale blue sky of the early morning with thin pale pink strands of clouds stretched across the colorful tent-filled valley like an artwork, golden threads of sunlight hanging over the east. Few humans was alive at this hour, so he was, in a sense, alone.

 

Wonderful for a stroll.

 

He heard rambunctious laughter and uneven stomping of footsteps falling on dew-dropped grass six tens over and made a sharp left to steer clear of the intoxicated bunch, whom just fell over themselves and landed in a messy heap judging by the consecutive thumps he heard. Loki grimaced. What is so good about alcohol that every culture has it? The only thing it was good for was tuning sensible mind into incoherent mud.

 

So focused on the flailing wizards, Loki failed to notice another set of footstep. A girl crashed into him as he suddenly appeared around the corner of a tent. He pivoted on his feet to absorb the impact and inadvertently sent her falling onto the side of a tent, eliciting shouts of surprise as it fell down on top of the occupiers.

 

 _So much for peace._ Loki grumbled under his breath, taking the girl's slender hand and pulling her up. They needed to get away from the incensed tent owners first, and fast.

 

He pulled the girl along, who said nothing and obediently allowed him to lead the way. When they were a safe distance away, Loki turned to face her.

 

She was shorter than him by half a head, small and lithe, with fly away bundle of bleached blond hair. She had some of the oddest jewelry Loki had ever seen. A necklace made of Butterbeer corks, radish earrings and headband woven with clovers and pumpkin seeds. A canvas satchel seemed to contain feathers of all colours and sizes rested on her left shoulder.

 

'My apologies. Are you alright?' He scanned her for any visible injuries, nodding satisfactorily when finding none. His eyes lingered a second longer on her choice of socks; knee length, one red with yellow polka dots, the other checkered green and white, contrasting starkly against her pale blue dress.

 

The blonde said nothing, eyes glued on their joined hand. Loki felt his cheeks heat up.

 

'Sorry.’ He fumbled, extracting his hand. 'I did not mean to do it without your permission.'

 

As soon as his hand left hers, she reached out to reclaim it, tracing circles on the back of his hand, looking inexplicably serene.

 

'You have cold hand.' She finally said dreamily, looking up at him with vacant silvery-blue-grey eyes, a tranquil smile on her face.

 

'I beg your pardon?' Loki asked, not knowing in which direction this conversation would go. And his hand was not cold; he had checked the other hand. It was clearly warm.

 

‘Your eyes are pretty.’ She commented vacantly, leaning in look straight into his eyes. Loki was about to offer an uncomfortable thank you when she added. ‘Red as rose.’

 

His mind grounded to a halt.

 

A quick check confirmed that his skin was still the pale white of a human and his eyes the mismatched blue-and-green.

 

Did he lose control of his Jotun side for a moment there? No, impossible. He would have known immediately if that had happened.

 

So how did she-?

 

‘I do not understand.' He cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing in feigned confusion.

 

She patted his hand comfortably. ’Don’t worry.’ She reassured him, not at all put off by his display of ignorance. ‘I won’t tell anyone, Noble Lie-smith Loki

 

Loki should maintain a puzzled expression but he couldn’t help a laugh bubbling past his lips. Him? Noble? Odin’s beard, someone needed to have their fact checked. He was many things but noble never was and never would be one of them. Loki cleared his throat, quelling the sarcastic smile tugging at his lips.

 

‘I must apologise, I truly do not follow.’ He said to the girl, deciding to stick to the act. Whoever this girl was, she had extraordinary keen intuition to tell Draco Malfoy was not entirely human. Loki did not feel any malice or devilry from her; in fact, he could not get a read on her. If he had to use a word to describe her, it would be dotty. Her very presence oozed of eccentricity and frivolity.

 

‘I know.’ She smiled serenely, taking a Butterbeer cork out of her dress pocket and placing it in his hand. ‘This will keep the Nargles away.’

 

What? ‘Nargles?’ He had never heard of that creature before. _What does Butterbeer cork have to do with this?_

 

‘Thieves, Nargles are. They stole my pencil.’ She turned on the spot, eyes on the ground. ‘I need to find it again. Goodbye, Lie-smith.’ And just like that, she disappeared among the maze of tents.

 

‘Um, bye?’ he said rather belatedly, not knowing whether it reached her or not.

 

This could top Loki’s list of strangest conversations if he had a list like that to begin with.

 

A short while later, the whole ordeal was fully forgotten, replaced by the worry of tonight’s plan when he reached back to Malfoys’ tent.

* * *

Loki did get to see Potter. Just not under the circumstances he desired.

 

It was pure Loki's luck that he was with both Lucius and Narcissa when they turned around that corner from their way back from Zabinis’ tent and saw a family of distinct redheads coming from the opposite direction.

 

The Weasleys, along with Black, Potter and Granger, saw them as well and stopped chatting light-heartedly with each other. Black bristled like a rabid dog at the sight of Lucius, or Loki, he had no clue (he felt proud of himself to have ruffled the man that much). They were all sporting green pointed hats and green facial markings, signifying their support for Irish team. Weasley’s scarlet scarf ruled him out as a fan of Hungarian team.

 

Of all the time he shut off his magic sense, it had to be now that this happened.

 

‘Well, well — Arthur Weasley.’ Lucius sniffed. ‘Cousin-in-law.’ He added as an afterthought, glancing over to Black, who was pushing Potter protectively behind him. The boy caught Loki’s eyes with his own, question in his gaze.

 

‘Lucius.’ Arthur Weasley said coldly.

 

‘What did you have to sell to get this many tickets?’ Lucius said softly. ‘Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched that much?’

 

‘I have my way, thank you for asking, Lucius.’ Weasley patriarch replied through gritted teeth, hands balled on his sides, while his children were getting redder in the face.

 

The grimace behind Loki’s indifferent facade deepened considerably. A headache was coming at him with a force of rivalling that of Mjonir impact. He did not have the mental capacity to deal with this, not with tonight’s expedient occupying his mind.

 

‘Oh? And here I thought Black has to defray the cost with his own, inadvertent affluence.’ Lucius said, lips curling up in derision.

 

Black shoved Arthur Weasley back and got right into Lucius's personal space. Narcissa's grasp on Loki’s shoulders was hard enough to leave bruises but she made no other moves.

 

'Get. Fucking. Lost.' Black grounded out, eyes gaining a feral look in them.

 

Lucius, for his part, was unfazed. ‘Of course. We have no wish to spend an extended period of time here either, not with the company you keep.’ His eyes slid over to Granger, who was masking her uncertainty well enough with a defiant stance. ‘I thought you could sink no lower-'

 

Time froze in his mind. Loki moved before he was even aware that he had left his spot.

 

Time resumed. Black held his fist mid-swing, frozen in place, but his eyes were not on Lucius; they were rooted on the black dagger, its tip touching skin with enough force to cause pain.

 

'Back off.' Loki ordered frostily, a ruthless edge bleeding into his voice.

 

No one threatened Lucius and Narcissa. They were good, _great_ , parents to him; but good people? They were not. Loki did not want to witness their fault, even though he was painfully aware of it. His behaviour now blatantly resembled that of a naive child, Loki smiled bitterly to himself. Children chose to see the good of their parents, overlook their wrong and defend them regardlessly. All for the sake of the perfect image of a happy family. He was going against his friends ( _wasn’t it strange that he still had friends?_ ), he knew, but given the choice, he would side with his family any other day.

 

Black slowly put his hand down, albeit with reluctance and loathing. Loki followed the movement while watching the others for any attempted wand-drawings from the corner of his eyes. His eyes slid over to Potter and he saw something not-quite-anger-but-close-enough on the boy’s face. At least him, and Granger, allowed Loki the benefit of the doubt with the way they could not seem to decide which emotion they should settle on. Weasley was burning in animosity though.

 

No one said or did anything other than watch, so Loki deemed it safe to withdraw the dagger into the fold of his sleeve. He placed a hand on Lucius’ arm to get the man attention.

 

‘Father, we should make haste, lest our late arrival throws Macnair for the loop.’

 

_Hurry up or he might think you exclude him from the plan._

'I know.' Lucius said, fixing the coat high collar. Turning his back towards the group, he motioned for Narcissa and Loki to follow.

 

Loki offered her his arm. She half-smiled bemusedly at him but courtly took it, and allowed Loki to guide her towards their destination.

He needed not to look to confirm the hostile and doubtful looks directed at his back. He was not looking forward to explanation time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late and short chapter. Not much happened here either, so basically this is kind of an update to say that 'I'm still alive and this story is definitely not dropped'. For the lateness, I have no excuse except for the fact that I just got into Shigeki no Kyojin fandom and my mind is literally filled with LEVI and Survey Corps and EREN FUCKING JÄGER'S NEW FUCKING LONG HAIR and the SEA and liiit Titan UFC fights and season 2!! Ah my fangirling is showing itself, excuse me. Getting into a different fandom when you have an ongoing fanfic is a dangerous gamble. 
> 
> On a different note, if you want to fangirl with me over Levi's badassery or drop me an ask about Remodel, I'm available on tumblr under the same name, riotousorder. Sorry for the long note. Thank you so much for your support! Please drop me a review on your way out.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea since June but just recently found time and inspiration to write this during a twelve hour flight. Cross-posted on fanfiction.net under the same name. Credit for Loki's insight of Gryffindor and Slyhterin being alike goes to 'The Sorting Hat Chats' on Tumblr for their brilliant analysis of primary and secondary Hogwarts House 
> 
> Please leave a review on your way out.


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